
PS 3519 
.0264 
N4 
1923 
Copy 1 


‘Royalty ‘Playi C ^[' > 


CJNever 
Touched c7lle 


Larry E.Johnson 


T. S. 'Denison & Company 
‘Publisher? • Chicago 
Trice 50 Cents 









Denison's P/ays 

AND HOME CAME TED 

By Walter Ben Hare. Comedy in 3 acts; 6 males, 6 fe¬ 
males; 2^4 hours. Royalty, ten dollars. Price, 50 Cent6. 

ASSISTED BY SADIE 

By Walter Ben Hare. Comedy in 4 acts; 6 males, 6 fe¬ 
males; 2% hours. Royalty, ten dollars. Price, 50 Cents. 

BETTY’S LAST BET 

By Edith Ellis. Farce-comedy in 3 acts; 5 males, 6 fe¬ 
males; 2% hours. Royalty, twenty dollars. Price, 50 Cents. 

FIFTY-FIFTY 

By Frederick G. Johnson. Farce in 3 acts; 5 males, 5 
females; 2*4 hours. Royalty, fifteen dollars. Price, 50 Cents. 

FOR THE LOVE OF JOHNNY 

By Harry Hamilton. Play in 3 acts; 6 females, 3 fe¬ 
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GETTIN* ACQUAINTED 

By Georgia Earle. Comedy in 1 act; 1 male, 2 females. 
Time, 25 minutes. Royalty, five dollars. Price, 35 Cents. 

THE GOLD BUG 

By Walter Ben Hare. Comedy in 4 acts; 7 males, 7 fe¬ 
males; hours. Royalty, fifteen dollars. Price, 50 Cents. 

THE LIE THAT JACK BUILT 

By Georgia Earle. Comedy in 1 act; 2 males, 2 females. 
Time, 30 minutes. Royalty, five dollars. Price, 35 Cente. 

MARY’S MILLIONS 

By Frederlok G. Johnson. Comedy in 3 acts; 5 males, 6 
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CASELDA COMES HOME 

By Fanny Cannon. Comedy in 8 acts; 5 males, 8 fe¬ 
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WHEN SMITH STEPPED OUT 

By Harry Osborne. Comedy in 3 acts; 4 males, 4 fe¬ 
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WHOSE LITTLE BRIDE ARE YOU? 

By Edith Ellis. Farce-comedy in 3 acts: 5 males, 5 fe¬ 
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T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 


















NEVER TOUCHED ME 





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NEVERTOUGHED ME 

A Three-Act Comedy 


BY 

Larry E. Johnson 

>1 

AUTHOR OF 

"Brother Elks” and “Putting It Over” 


CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 
Publishers 








PS-3 5K? 



\0\V3 


IMPORTANT WARNING 


—“IHE ACTING RIGHTS of this play, 



under whatever title performed, are 
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For AMATEUR presentation, whether admis¬ 
sion is charged or not, a royalty fee of fifteen 
($15.00) dollars for each performance must be paid 
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Company, 623 S. Wabash Avenue, Chicago, Ill. 

For PROFESSIONAL terms, apply to the pub¬ 
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The purchase or possession of this book conveys no ri&ht 
whatever for the performance of the play, public or private, 
for &ain or for charity. Performance of any nature is strict¬ 
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Denison & Company of Chicago.” 


COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY LARRY E. JOHNSON 


MADE IN U. S. A. 
Never Touched Me ^ 


©c/.o 


CALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


655 42 







NEVER TOUGHED ME 

FOR SIX MEN AND THREE WOMEN 


THE CHARACTERS. 

(In the order of their appearance) 


Doctor Digby. 

John Cullen. 

Professor Barrett 

Vanderberg. 

Bill the Butch. . . 
Joyce Barrett.... 

Millie. 

Agnes. 

Clancy. 


. A Young Physician 

. A Broker 

.An Experimental Chemist 
. .A Broker Who Is Broke 

. A Burglar 

-. The Professor s Daughter 

. Joyce's Friend 

. A Nurse in Training 

.. A Cop 


Place —New York , N. Y., and Weehawken, N. J. 


Time —The Present. 


Time of Playing —About Two and One-Quarter 
Hours. 


SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. Vanderberg's apartment in New York 
City. 

Act II. Professor Barrett's flat in Weehawken, 
N. J. Six months later than Act I. 

Act III. The same. Six months later than Act II. 

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NEVER TOUCHED ME 


COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS. 

Doctor Digby (light comedy ).—A young man 
who takes a very serious view of things in general 
and of himself in particular. He wears a tuxedo 
in first act, with overcoat and soft hat. He carries 
a cane. Business suit for second and third acts. 

John Cullen ( heavy ).—A man about forty-five 
years of age. Has an overbearing, bullying manner, 
and an offensive way of speaking. Wears business 
suit all the way through. Overcoat in first and sec¬ 
ond acts. 

Vanderberg (comedy lead ).— A young man, 
about twenty-four or twenty-five. On the surface his 
manner is debonair, almost flippant. Underneath, 
it is serious. He wears full evening dress or a tuxedo 
in first act, with light top coat and silk or soft 
hat. During the second and third acts he wears the 
shabby, worn clothes of a working man. 

Bill the Butch (lore comedy ).—A husky man 
with a husky voice. A burglar. He is full of vital¬ 
ity, aggressive, and always looking out for number 
one. He wears a flaming red wig and a green patch 
over his eye. Has the same suit 'all through the play, 
a loose fitting coat and baggy trousers of a nonde¬ 
script color. 

Professor Barrett (character ).—Avery oldman 
with snow-white hair and beard. Very feeble. He 
wears a Prince Albert coat—the only one in captivity 
—and has a pair of tortoise-shell eyeglasses fastened 
to him by a ribbon. He is always losing them and 
always fumbling for them. Walks with a cane. The 
character should be played for sympathy. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


1 


Joyce Barrett (lead ).—A young woman. Pleas¬ 
ant in appearance and manner. She wears attractive 
but not elaborate gowns. Street dress with wraps 
and hat in the first act. A Modest house dress for 
second and third acts. 

Millie (ingenue ).—A young woman with plenty 
of pep. Dresses a trifle more expensively than Joyce. 
Wears furs for first and second acts. 

Agnes (ingenue ).—A young woman. Wears furs 
over a trained nurse’s uniform. 

Clancy (utility ).—Wears a policeman’s uniform. 

SUGGESTIONS ON STAGING. 

The light and sound effects of the second and 
third acts will require considerable extra prepara¬ 
tion, but they contribute so greatly to the effective¬ 
ness of the action that they should not be neglected. 
There is supposed to be an open-air theatre across 
the street from the Barretts’ flat, with an electric dis¬ 
play sign which flashes off and on at regular inter¬ 
vals. For this purpose an uncolored bunch light 
should be placed off left, to shine in through bay 
window, with a switch by which it may be worked. 
In addition to this sign effect, there should be a 
steady illumination, at the same place, with a green¬ 
ish glow to represent the light that would come in 
the window from a fairly well lighted city street at 
night. This may be done with one or two bunch 
lights outside bay window with greenish medium, 
burning throughout the acts without interruption. 

There is supposed to be an electric piano in the 
lobby of the theatre. This effect is worked best with 
a player-piano, located off left. If player piano 




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NEVER TOUCHED ME 


cannot be obtained, it may be worked with an or¬ 
dinary piano played with extremely mechanical touch 
in strict, fast tempo. If piano is unavailable, use a 
phonograph with a ragtime piano solo record. 

The samples of leatherette are made with small 
sheets of heavy w r all paper—the kind that is made 
to imitate leather wall covering. To make it inflam¬ 
mable, one end of each sample is rubbed with kero¬ 
sene. The fire end and the safety end should be care¬ 
fully marked for the actors so there will be no dan¬ 
ger of burns. Do not attempt to work this business 
in the theatre until careful experiments have been 
made out-of-doors and the business of igniting and 
burning is absolutely dependable. Eliminate every 
possible chance of fire or explosion. After due ex¬ 
perimentation there will be no danger in this business. 

Vanderberg’s flashlight gun can be arranged by 
fastening a vest-pocket electric flashlight case to dhe 
barrel, and connecting it to the trigger with a loose 
wire. The more crude it appears, the better. The 
finished spot-shot gun is neat and workmanlike in 
appearance. Since the flashlight is not actually used, 
the whole thing can be faked in each instance. Any 
odd-looking contrivance attached to the barrel will 
answer the purpose. But one must be clumsy, the 
other neat. 


PROPERTIES. 

Digby —Fountain pen; cardboard suitbox con¬ 
taining Santa Claus outfit; automatic with improved 
flashlight attachment; bank book. 

Cullen —Check book; fountain pen; sample of 
leatherette; wallet with money; cigar. 




NEVER TOUCHED ME 


9 


Professor —Slip of paper in pocket for memo; 
portfolio with samples; long envelope for formula; 
long envelope with legal-looking document (sup¬ 
posedly deeds). 

Vanderberg —Letter in pocket; workman’s dinner 
pail; automatic with crude flashlight attachment; 
matches. 

Bile the Butch —Handbag; long knife; flash 
lamp. 

Joyce —Tray with dishes, food and pot of tea. 

Agnes —Paper bag containing Santa Claus cap 
and beard. 

Clancy —Handcuffs. 


CONCERNING THE PLAY. 

(The following paragraphs may be useful in preparing an 
advance write-up of the play for your local newspapers. Your 
cast of characters, place and date of performance, etc., should 
be added.) 

Edward Vanderberg, the wealthy, indolent son of 
a wealthy, indulgent father, imagined that he was 
bom to be a Napoleon of finance. His ambition in 
life was to startle Wall Street. He realized his am¬ 
bition one pleasant summer afternoon by strolling 
into the stock exchange and endeavoring to comer 
wheat. He dropped two million dollars with a thud 
that startled not only Wall Street, but several adja¬ 
cent thoroughfares. 

When the play opens Vanderberg is penniless, in 
debt and in danger of arrest on a technical charge. 
In addition to this he finds that the father of the girl 
he loves has been involved in the disastrous stock 
speculation and has lost his entire fortune. Napo¬ 
leon has m'et his Waterloo! 

Just about this time Bill the Butch, a hard-work¬ 
ing burglar, breaks into the action of the play. In 




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NEVER TOUCHED ME 


ten words he offers a solution to the whole affair. He 
tells Vanderberg that the thing to do is— But you 
will have to hear Bill explain it to appreciate the 
wonderful simplicity of the scheme. 

There is a fresh set of complications in the second 
act. Vanderberg finds that he has jumped out of 
the frying-pan into the soup. The outlook grows 
darker and darker. Near the end of the act he is 
about to be arrested and taken to jail. Apparently 
nothing can save him. There is a policeman at every 
door, and a hurry-up wagon in the street below. A 
detective is in the act of putting handcuffs on 
Vanderberg when Joyce Barrett, the girl in the case, 
runs to the center of the stage and— But you must 
see it all happen to enjoy fully the novelty of the 
situation. 

Of course it all comes out right in the last act. 
Vanderberg proves that he is not guilty as charged, 
makes a couple of million dollars, marries the girl, 
and everything. That is to be expected. But it all 
happens in such an unexpected way. There are 
laughs, thrills and surprises galore, all of which go 
to make up an evening of thorough enjoyment. For 
originality of ideas and richness of humor, “Never 
Touched Me” is a play that cannot be surpassed. 

There is something doing every minute in this 
laugh-provoking comedy, in which the following 
people are involved: A business man who has lost 
his money but who has retained his sense of humor; 
a business man who still has his money but who never 
did have a sense of humor; a light comedy doctor; a 
low comedy burglar; a character comedy professor 
of chemistry; an energetic cop; the professor’s fas¬ 
cinating daughter; a charming nurse in training; 
and still another girl, equally attractive. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


11 


SCENE PLOT. 
Act I. 


INTERIOR BACKING 



Acts II and III. 

interior backing 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

Up stage means away from footlights ; down stage , 
near footlights. In the use of right and left, the 
actor is supposed to be facing the audience. 


























































































































































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NEVER TOUGHED ME 


The First Act. 

Scene: Vanderberg’s apartments in New York 
City. The room is richly and tastefully decorated 
and furnished, in an atmosphere that denotes the 
collector of antiques and other objects of beauty. 

Persons coming in from the street enter through a 
door in the left wall. The other door of the room 
is in the center of the rear wall and is hung with 
heavy portieres. In the right wall is a window, with 
the shade raised. Between this window and the rear 
wall is a fireplace with mantel. 

A heavy table, flanked by- two comfortable arm¬ 
chairs, is in the center of the room. A buffet is 
against the rear wall, to the right of the center door. 
A hatrack is in the left upper corner. A cellarette 
or other small cabinet is near the left door. Across 
the room, in front of the window, is a tabourette with 
cigars and matches. On the rear wall, near hatrack, 
is a telephone. Door bell off left. Metallic crash ef¬ 
fect back center. 

Among the furnishings of the room are books on 
table; silver candlesticks on the mantel; silver dining 
service on the buffet; silver smoking set on the tab¬ 
ourette, and a loving cup on the cellarette. Bottles 
and glasses are on the buffet. Writing paper in table 
drawer. Small revolver in table drawer, with blank 
load. 

The room is lighted by a handsome electrolier in 
the ceiling, and a soft red glow supposedly from the 

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NEVER TOUCHED ME 


hall light comes through the transom over the left 
door. 

At Rise: Doctor Digby and John Cullen are 
discovered. Digby, with hat and cane in hand , is 
seated at the right of the table. Cullen, hat in 
hand , is walking about , left. 

Cullen. 

What time is it, Digby ? 

Digby. 

(Looking at watch.) 

Ten-thirty. „ 

Cullen. 

Well, I’m not going to stay up all night waiting 
for Vanderberg. When he comes in, tell him that 
I want him to vacate these apartments as soon as 
possible. I want to move in next week. ( Going 
toward hall door , left.) 

Digby. 

( Surprised.) 

You are going to move in ? 

Cullen. 

Certainly. WTy not? They belong to me. 

Digby. 

Oh. I didn’t understand. 

Cullen. 

Vanderberg borrowed money from me; gave me his 
note with this property as security. The note is 
overdue to-day, so I intend to foreclose. 

Digby. 

If he could raise the money now, would you still 
hold him to the letter of the contract? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


15 


Cullen. 

Where could he raise any money ? His credit went 
with his cash. He’s broke! 

Digby. 

Well, aren’t you in on that? You’re his partner. 
Cullen. 

(Coming center.) 

I was his partner. I bought out his interest in the 

firm to-day. 

J Digby. 

{At center , standing near Cullen.) 

Well, his share in the firm and the half million his 

father left him would make him reasonably well off. 

(Cullen laughs and turns away.) What became of 

the money ? ~ 

J Cullen. 

He dropped it in Wall Street. All day long he’s 
been buying M. and R. stocks. When the market 
closed he didn’t have a dime. 

Digby. 

I’m sorry to hear that. Van’s the best fellow I 
ever knew. 

{Door bell rings , off left.) 


Cullen. 

That’s him now. 

Digby. 

{Going to hall door.) 

Not likely. He wouldn’t ring. He’d use his key. 
{Opening door.) 

Professor Barrett enters from the hall. Though 
shabbily dressed , he is dignified in appearance. 

Digby. 


Good evening. 




16 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Professor. 

I am Professor Barrett. Which of you is Mr. 

Vanderberg? „ 

& Digby. 

Neither. Mr. Vanderberg is not at home. 

Professor. 

I am sorry to hear that. 

Digby. 

We expect him any moment now. Won’t you sit 
down and wait? 

Professor. 

Thank you. ( Takes chair right of table.) 

Digby. 

I am Dr. Digby. This is Mr. Cullen; Vanderberg, 
Cullen and Company, you know. 

Professor. 

Indeed! (To Culeen.) Perhaps you can give me 
the information I want. I am worried about a little 
investment I have made. I bought ten thousand dol¬ 
lars worth of stock in a gold mine— 

Cullen. 

(Taking seat left of table.) 

What gold mine? 

Professor. 

The Yucatan. 

Digby and Cullen. 

( Together; amazed.) 

The Yucatan! ~ 

Cullen. 

{Bluntly.) 

Good Lord, man, the Yucatan was a fake gold 
mine exploited and exploded ten years ago ! {Laughs 
and rises.) I didn’t think there was a man living 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


• 17 


crazy enough to buy that stock. It isn’t worth the 
paper it is printed on. 

Professor. 

{Rising; stunned.) 

You—you mean the mine is not a paying propo¬ 
sition ? ^ 

Cullen. 

It never was. Any fool knows that. Ask Digby. 

Professor. 

{Hopefully.) 

Perhaps I might realize something by selling the 
shares at a sacrifice. 

Cullen. 

{Impatiently.) 

You couldn’t sell them for a penny a pound. Don’t 
you understand? You’ve been swindled! 

Professor. 

( Dazed .) 

That is what my daughter says, but I have perfect 
confidence in the young man who sold me the stock. 
{Pauses uncertainly , then braces himself.) Well, 
well; this will be a severe blow to Joyce. Joyce is my 
daughter. You see, I am not a rich, man and I in¬ 
vested all I had. {Pause.) Still, I have my health, 
and I can make another fortune. 

Cullen. 

What business are you in? 

Professor. 

I used to teach chemistry, Mr. Callahan— 

Cullen. 

Cullen, not Callahan, is my name. 



18 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Professor. 

I beg your pardon. Yes, I used to teach, but I 
can do most anything in the clerical line. I have a 
remarkable head for figures, and an excellent mem¬ 
ory. ( Turning.) Well, I’ll not detain you longer, 
gentlemen. Good-night. 

Digby. 

I am sorry that you have been the victim of an 
unscrupulous young rascal. 

Professor. 

{Gently.) 

Oh, no; not at all. There has been some mistake; 
that’s all. {Takes a few steps , then stops and turns.) 
Would there be any chance of my securing a position 
in your office, Mr. Coogen? 

Cullen. 

No, no! My dear man, you’re too old. I haven’t 
a clerk on the salary sheet over thirty-five years of 

a ^ e * Professor. 

Yes, yes. Youth of course is decidedly an advan¬ 
tage. But still, we all must live. Do you happen to 

know of a vacancy anywhere, Dr. Digby? 

Digby. 

I am afraid not, Professor Barrett. But if I hear 

of one I will advise you, if you will leave me your 

address. -p, 

Professor. 

Thank you; thank you. I live at number—num¬ 
ber—Bless my soul! Just for the moment I cannot 
think of the number. 

Cullen. 

{Sarcastically.) 

Remarkable memory! 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


19 


Digby. 

What street is it on ? 

Professor. 

It is on—on—Why, this is quite extraordinary. I 
seem to have forgotten the street, too! 

Digby. 

Never mind. Don’t worry about it. I’ll find it in 
the city directory. 

Professor. 

But I don’t live in New York. 

Digby. 

Oh, I see. 

Professor. 

I live in a suburban town. Very picturesque. 
You have been there frequently. It’s—It’s—Why, 
the name is right on the tip of my tongue. 

Digby. 

Is it on this side or over in Jersey? 

Professor. 

( Pathetically .) 

I—I couldn’t say. 

Cullen. 

Great Scott! He doesn’t know what state he lives 
in. He’d be a handy man around an office! 

Digby. 

( Turning back to Professor.) 

Perhaps you have a card or an old envelope with 
your address? Professor . 

(Fumbling in pocket .) 

I assure you, gentlemen, I am not usually so for¬ 
getful. I have an excellent memory. But I’ve had 
a very exciting day—( Pulls paper from pocket.) Ah, 



20 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


here is something. Would you mind reading it? I 
have very fine eyesight as a rule, but— 

Digby. 

Of course. ( Takes paper and reads.) “This 
old gentleman is Professor Barrett. He is very ab¬ 
sent-minded and sometimes loses his way. If the 
person finding him will please see that he reaches 
1531 North High Street, Weehawken, New Jersey, 
he will greatly oblige, Joyce Barrett.” 

Professor. 

{Proudly.) 

My little girl! {Laughs fondly.) She is always 
afraid something is going to happen to me. 

Digby. 

{With new interest.) 

You do not happen to be Ignatius Barrett, of 
Barrett’s Germicide ? 

Professor. 

Yes. Barrett’s Germicide is one of my formulae. 

Cullen. 

{At once showing interest.) 

Is it ? Say, Doc, isn’t that the stuff that the Clark 
Harris Company manufacture? 

Digby. 

Yes. They’ve made millions out of that antisep¬ 
tic. It is used in all the hospitals. 

Professor. 

Quite so. I very foolishly sold my rights for a few 
thousand dollars. Usually I am very keen in a busi¬ 
ness matter—very keen—but at that time I—er— 
needed the money. {Brief pause.) Well, gentlemen, 
I must be going. {Starts for hall door.) I don’t 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


21 


want Joyce to worry. ( Coming back center and 
speaking confidentially.) You see she was very ex¬ 
cited and angry about my buying Yucatan and 
wanted to have Mr. Vanderberg arrested— 

Digby and Cullen. 

{Together.) 

Vanderberg! 

Cullen. 

Did Vanderberg sell you that Yucatan stock? 

Professor. 

Of course. Didn’t you know? 

Cullen. 

Well, I’ll be hanged! 

Digby. 

{Unwilling to believe it.) 

You must be mistaken, Professor Barrett. 

Professor. 

No. I’ll tell you how it was. I knew Mr. Vander- 
berg’s father very well. In fact, we were schoolmates. 
So naturally, when I decided to invest my money, I 
wrote to Vanderberg, junior, for advice. I enclosed 
a check for ten thousand dollars and told him to buy 
stock in some paying proposition; Yucatan, if pos¬ 
sible. And he did. 

Cullen. 

When was this? 

Professor. 

Let me see. To-day is Tuesday, isn’t it? 

Cullen. 

No; to-day is Friday. 

Professor. 

Well, at any rate, it was this morning I received 
the shares by registered mail. 



22 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Cullen. 

That young man is headed straight for the peni¬ 
tentiary ! 

Professor. 

Perhaps it was foolish to risk my small fortune in 
speculation, but I needed a large sum of money. You 
see, I have another invention— 

Cullen. 

{Showing interest.) 

Another invention? 


Professor. 

Yes. It is really of more importance than the 

germicide. ~ 

° Cullen. 

{Suavely.) 

My dear professor, you interest me greatly. Won’t 
you sit down and tell us about it? 

Professor. 

I’m afraid I haven’t the time. My daughter will 
be worrying— 

Cullen. 

Don’t worry about that. My car is outside and 
I can get you to Weehawken in twenty minutes. 
{Going to 'phone.) Now, now—not a word. {Into 
'phone.) Hello. * * The office? * * Have Mr. Cul¬ 
len’s chauffeur come to the ’phone. * * Yes, the car 
is outside. (While waiting , turns to Professor.) 
What is the nature of this invention, Professor? 


Professor. 

It is a substitute for leather. I call it leatherette. 


Cullen. 

Is it patented? 

Professor. 

No; it’s a secret process. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


23 


Cullen. 

I see. ( In 'phone.) That you, Chivers? * * 
Listen carefully. I want you to drive a friend of 
mine over to Weehawken. * * Yes, in a few minutes. 
* * No; I’ll walk home. Take the address. 1534 
North High Street. (To Digby.) That right, 

Di S b y ? Digby. 

(Looking at paper.) 

Yes. (Hands paper back to Professor.) 

Cullen. 

(In 'phone.) 

Got it? * * All right. (Hangs up 'phone. Well 
pleased , comes back to center.) Now about the in¬ 
vention—this leatherette. (Digby, not pleased at 
Cullen’s conduct , stands up stage and listens.) 
What is the approximate cost of manufacturing it as 
compared to leather? (Sits.) 

Professor. 

(Sitting.) 

About ten per cent. 

Cullen. 

And what would be the capital required to set up 
a plant—on a small scale, of course? 

Professor. 

About fifteen thousand dollars. 

Cullen. 

You have soiqe samples already made, I suppose? 
Professor. 

Oh, yes. Cullen. 

Well, I tell you what I am going to do. I’ll have 
a look at the stuff. If it is as good as you say, I’ll 
advance the funds necessary to float the proposition. 



24 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


But you must be careful not to speak about the in¬ 
vention to others. We don’t want anyone to steal it, 
you know. Digby. 

Yes, Professor Barrett, that is sound advice. We 
don’t want anyone else to steal it, you know. 

Cullen. 

(Looks at Digby, then rises.) 

I think we had better discuss the details in private. 
I’ll call at your house to-morrow, professor. ( Tak¬ 
ing Professor’s arm and leading him to hall door.) 
You will find my car at the curb. Good-night. 


Professor. 

Good-night, and thank you. Good-night, Dr. 
Pillsbury. If you hear of any vacancies don’t hesi¬ 
tate to recommend me. I can do most anything. I’m 
quite strong and active—quite strong and active. 
(Exits into hall , leaning heavily on his cane.) 


Cullen. 

(Closing hall door.) 

The old fellow’s mind is about gone. 

Digby. 

Senile decay. Cullen. 

It was an outrage for Vanderberg to swindle an 
old man like that. Digby 

I don’t believe he did. Vanderberg isn’t that kind 

of a chap. _. 

Cullen. 

He was pinched for money and the old man was 
easy picking; that’s all. 

Digby. 

I wish I were as sure of your not cheating Barrett 
as I am that Van didn’t cheat him. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


25 


Cullen. 

{Flaring.) 

What do you mean? 

Digby. 

(Calmly.) 

Cullen, I know you from cranium to tibia. I can 
see you right at this minute plotting and scheming 
some frame-up to do this old fellow out of his inven¬ 
tion. ~ 

Cullen. 

( Threateningly.) 

• Why, you confounded pill-peddler, I’ve a notion— 

Digby. 

(Coolly.) 

I don’t want to start any rough-house in another 

man’s rooms. You said you were going home. Why 

don’t you go? ~ 

J & Cullen. 

Because I intend staying right here until Vander- 
berg comes. Digby 

Fair enough. So do I. We will both waiU Mean¬ 
while I can dispense with your conversation. (Tak¬ 
ing hook off table, sits right of table , with back to 


Cullen.) 


Cullen. 


That suits me. (Taking book off table sits left of 
table , with back to Digby. Both hold their posi¬ 
tions , pretending to read.) 

Vanderberg enters quietly from the hall. He is 
carefully dressed , and has light top coat , hat and 
cane. He looks from one man to the other , puzzled 
and amused. Takes off his top coat and hangs it with 
cane and hat on rack. Smiles , then comes down cen¬ 
ter. 



26 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

I see that the mourners are all assembled. Now 
that the corpse has arrived we can go on with the 
funeral. 

Digby. 


’Lo, Vanderberg. Cullen 


’Lo, Van. 

Good evening. 
Digby’s shoulder.) 


Vanderberg. 

(With hand affectionately on 
Well, old timer—I’m broke. 


Digby. 

Everything? 

J VANDERBERG. 

Everything. I haven’t a bean. 

Digby. 

The property your father left? 


Vanderberg. 

Dumped it all in the market. By the way, Cullen, 
when my father was alive did you ever hear any men¬ 
tion of a Central American property? 

Cullen. 

Yes; rubber or something of the kind. 


Vanderberg. 

That’s it; rubber. It was listed in his will, but I 
have never been able to find any record of it since his 
death. (Walks away to fireplace and stands there.) 
Oh, well; if I had found it I suppose it would have 
gone with the rest. ( Turns to men.) My assets are 
all liabilities. All I have left is a life insurance policy 
for ten thousand dollars. I am worth considerably 
more dead than I am alive. 

Digby. 

You will have to get down to work, Van. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


27 


Cullen. 

(With sarcasm .) 

Work! What work could he do? 

Digby. 

Well* he can’t starve. 

Vanderberg. 

(Lightly.) 

Can’t I? I can try. Perhaps the ravens will feed 
me like they did Elijah, or Elisha, or whatever that 
old fellow’s name in the Bible was. 

Cullen. 

Maybe. But in my experience a raven is an in¬ 
frequent bird. You’ve made a fizzle of everything 
you ever tried. Digby. 

(Seriously.) 

Trouble with Van is he has no patience. 

Vanderberg. 

(Smiling.) 

Well, you haven’t very many, Doc. 

Cullen. 

(Patronizingly.) 

You will have to do as I did. Start at the bottom. 
When I was a young man I was a stevedore. I 
worked at the docks, carrying bags of salt and coffee 
ten hours each day for ten dollars a week. 

Vanderberg. 

( Unimpressed.) 

Yes, and you’d be there yet if my father hadn’t 
taken a liking to you and helped you along. 

Cullen. 

(Vainly.) 

Your father knew I was a winner. 



28 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

( Quietly.) 

Yes; but he didn’t know you were a crook. 

Culeen. 

(Angry, strides to center.) 

What do you mean by that? 

Vanderberg. 

(At center.) 

Just that. The whole M. and R. deal was a frame- 
up. You had a big block of M. and R. stock and 
you told me to go out and try to buy as much as I 
could in the open market. You advised me to buy it 
in my own name so the public wouldn’t know that the 
firm of Vanderberg was gambling in stocks. You 
said if we could get a corner on M. and R. we would 
make a killing. I invested all the money I had; it 
wasn’t enough. You bought out my interest in the 
firm, still it wasn’t enough. You loaned me five thou¬ 
sand dollars on my personal property. When that 
was gone I was broke. 

Cullen. 

(Defiantly.) 

Well, what’s crooked about that? 

Vanderberg. 

Nothing. Here’s where the joker comes in. This 
is how you double-crossed me. At eleven o’clock I 
thought I cornered on M. and R. Everyone else 
thought so, so the price went up to ninety^-ninety- 
five—a hundred. I was feeling pretty good. I had 
just closed a little deal of my own for ten thousand 
dollars (Digby starts; Cullen smiles grimly) — 
and I thought I was on easy street. A half-hour be¬ 
fore the market closed, MacFarland & Company 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


29 


started to sell M. and R. in thousand-dollar lots. No 
one knew where the stock was coming from. I bought 
and bought and bought, and still they offered thou¬ 
sand-dollar lots. When the gong sounded I was 
broke, and MacFarland was still asking for bids. 

Cullen. 

( Impatiently .) 

Well, what’s that got to do with me? 


Vanderberg. 

I don’t suppose you know where that stock was 

coming from ? ~ 

& Cullen. 

Vanderberg. 

I do. It was coming from you. It was the block 

of stock you had before I started into the game at all. 

You were selling it to me—your partner—through 

a broker. ^ 

Cullen. 

Who told you that? 

Vanderberg. 

MacFarland himself. 


Cullen. 

Then MacFarland is a liar. 

Vanderberg. 

Oh, no, he isn’t. Here’s a letter in your hand¬ 
writing telling him to sell fifty thousand dollars’ 
worth of M. and R. at the market. (Producing let- 

^ er ‘) Cullen. 

( Defiantly .) 

Well, what are you going to do about it? The 
transaction is legal. 



30 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

Legal, but not square. I’m not going to do any¬ 
thing about it. I just wanted to prove ^hat you’re 
a crook; that’s all. (Puts letter in pocket.) 

Cullen. 

Well, I’m not going to stay here and argue with 
you. I want you to vacate these rooms by to-morrow 
night. I’m going to move in. And remember, every¬ 
thing here belongs to me. 

Vanderberg. 

Quite so. Everything here is yours. Have one 

of your cigars, John. (Handing him box of cigars , 

one of which Cullen takes.) Now, have one of your 

matches to light one of your cigars. (Hands him 

light; then points to hall door.) Now, here is one 

of your doors to one of your rooms. Now get to 

hell out of it— and if you ever come back while I am 

here I am going to take one of your chairs and break 

one of your arms! „ 

J Cullen. 

(Standing in doorway.) 

You are acting pretty high-handed for a man who 
is due to face an indictment for swindling. 

Vanderberg. 

(Amazed.) 

Swindling ? ~ 

Cullen. 

(Smiling.) 

Pretty smooth! You sold a parcel of worthless 
stock to old man Barrett, and you’ve been found out. 

Vanderberg. 


Worthless? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


31 


Cullen. 

Oh, keep that “innocent” stuff for the jury. You 
know the Yucatan is a gold brick—everyone knows 

Vanderberg. 

You’re lying, Cullen. I found those shares in a 
safety deposit box—my father’s. He wouldn’t have 
placed them there if they were fraudulent. 

Cullen. 

I don’t care if you found them in the United States 
Treasury. The Yucatan never was anything but a 
swindling proposition. 

Vanderberg. 

Doc, is this true? j) IGBY# 

I’m afraid so. Vanderberg. 

I didn’t know it. Barrett wrote me, enclosing a 
ten-thousand-dollar check, . and asked me to buy 
Yucatan for him. I knew I had’ it among father’s 
securities, so I mailed it to him, for I needed the 
money. ' ( Paces floor.) I wouldn’t have had this 
happen for a million dollars. Professor Barrett was 
my father’s best friend. He staked the governor 
when they were both young men. And now I’ve 
ruined him. ( Sits dejectedly , with face buried in 
hands. There is a pause , which Cullen breaks.) 

Cullen. 

If I were you I wouldn’t worry about Barrett. I’d 
worry about myself. You’ll find there is such a thing 
as a blue sky law, even in New York. {Exits, into 
hall.) Digby. 

Well, Van—it can’t be helped. It was a mis¬ 
take; and everyone makes mistakes. I make them 
myself. 



32 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

I know, Doc. But they bury your mistakes. 
(Rises.) How did Cullen know anything about the 
Barrett affair? 


Digby. 


Barrett was here. 
Here! When? 


Vanderberg. 

Digby. 
Just before you came in. 


Vanderberg. 

Suppose he was after my life’s blood. 

Digby. 

No; he was pretty cool. He’s a game old boy. 
Did you ever meet him? 

Vanderberg. 

No. I left New England when I was a kid. But 
my father has often spoken of him. 


Digby. 

He’s an old, old man. And I guess that ten thou¬ 
sand was the savings of a lifetime. He seemed to 
worry about his daughter more than he did about 
himself. Vanderberg. 

(Paces stage.) 

I’ve just got to raise that money somehow. 

Digby. 

Yes. If Barrett makes a holler you’re a gonner. 


Vanderberg. 

A bankrupt! A con man and a jailbird! A fine 
record for Luther Vanderberg’s son. (Sinks in chair 
again.) I wish I were dead. (Stops suddenly.) 
Dead! The life insurance policy—ten thousand dol¬ 
lars—that’s the solution. I’ll do it! 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


33 


Digby. 

What are you talking about? 

Vanderberg. 

Oh, nothing—nothing at all. I was just thinking. 
(Paces stage , then stops.) Do you know, Doc, I 
believe I’ll make my will. 

Digby. 

Your will? 

Vanderberg. 

Yes, and leave my insurance money to Barrett. 
It will be a sop to my conscience. 

Digby. 

The old man will have to live to be a hundred and 
fifty years old before he inherits. 

Vanderberg. 

Possibly. Still, I might die young. My heart is 
giving me a lot of trouble— 

Digby. 

Nonsense! Don’t try to conjure up any cardiac 
trouble. Your heart is as strong as a steam pump. 

Vanderberg. 

My lungs— (Coughs.) Have you noticed that 
annoying little cough? 

Digby. 

Just a moment. (Goes to Vanderberg and places 
ear on Vanderberg’s chest. Vanderberg assumes a 
martyred expression.) Sound as a bell! (Gives 
Vanderberg a tremendous slap on the hack , which 
almost upsets him.) 




NEVER TOUCHED ME 


34 . 


Vanderberg. 

(Recovering his wind and equilibrium.) 

In some ways you are the most objectionable man 

I ever met. ^ 

Digby. 

You are in perfect physical condition—neurotic, 
of course, but that is infrequently fatal. 

Vanderberg. 

I suppose I am so healthy I couldn’t be killed by a 

street car. ^ 

Digby. 

Oh; accident, of course. But that is hardly prob- 

a ^ e * Vanderberg. 

(Taking paper from table drawer.) 

I am going to make my will right now, and you 

will have to help me. 

r Digby. 

I know nothing about wills. 

Vanderberg. 

You’ve attended a lot of deathbeds, haven’t you? 
Digby. 

Yes, but I never saw any of my patients make a 

W ^* Vanderberg. 

I suppose not. I expect they all make their wills 

before they send for you. Sit down and get out your 
fountain pen. I’ll dictate. 

Digby. 

This is all rot, but—go ahead. 

(Digby writes , while Vanderberg paces back and 
forth.) 

Vanderberg. 

{Dictating slowly.) 

Whereas, I, the undersigned, Edward Stanislaus 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


35 


Vanderberg, being sane and of sound mind, do here¬ 
by will and bequeath the sum of ten thousand dollars 
to Dr. Ignatius Barrett, his heirs and assigns for¬ 
ever. Signed. Got that? 

Digby. 

Vanderberg. 

( Continuing .) 

P. S. Whereas I haven’t got the said ten thou¬ 
sand dollars yet, but if you will go to the Topical 
Life Insurance offices after I am dead they will give 
it to you. Yours truly. 


Digby. 

(Shaking his head hopelessly.) 

And this is the man who was going to paralyze 
Wall Street. ( Takes fresh sheet of paper and 
writes.) 

Vanderberg. 


What? 

Digby. 

( Writing.) 

Nothing. {Finishes.) How’s this? {Rises and 
reads.) “I, Edward Stanislaus Vanderberg, bequeath 
the sum of ten thousand dollars at my death, or Top¬ 
ical Life Insurance Policy, number 11246, to Dr. 
Ignatius Barrett. Witnessed by Egbert Digby.” 
Sign here. {Gives paper to Vanderberg, then gets 
his coat from rack.) 


Vanderberg. 

{Looking at paper.) 

You didn’t put anything in about my being sane 
and of sound mind. 

Digby. 

{Putting on coat.) 

I thought it better to stick to facts. 



36 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

(Taking Digby’s hand.) 

Well, good-bye, old fellow. 

Digby. 

Good-bye? Are you, going away? 

Vanderberg. 

( Mournfully .) 

Yes, I’m going away. 

Digby. 

Where are you going? 

Vanderberg. 

On a long, long journey. 

Digby. 

What’s the matter with you? 

Vanderberg. 

Oh, I’m all right. 

& Digby. 

Well, you’d better take care of yourself. {At hall 

door, turns.) Say, is this place you are going to a 

warmer climate? Tr 

Vanderberg. 

Probably. ( Short pause.) Don’t worry about 

me, but don’t forget me. Think of me as I am. What 

is it Othello says: “Nothing extenuate, nor set down 

aught in malice.” ^ 

& Digby. 

{Emphatically .) 

You’re crazy! Good-bye—and good luck. {Exits 
into hall.) 

(Vanderberg stands looking at closed door , then 
comes to table , in deep thought. Takes small re¬ 
volver from drawer in table , sees if it is loaded , puts 
it on table , then crosses to window and looks out. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


37 


Crosses to hall door and loclcs it. Goes hack to table , 
raises revolver to temple and closes eyes , when a tre¬ 
mendous crash , as of a brass tray falling , is heard off 
center and —) 

A red-headed man comes bounding in through the 
center door. It is Bill the Butch. 

Bill. 

(Shouting.) 

Hey, stop that! Stop it! (Makes a grab for the 
revolver. Vanderberg springs back and stands star¬ 
ing at the intruder , the revolver dropping in his limp 
hand.) What do you mean? What ye tryin’ to do? 
Tryin’ to put me in bad? I ain’t going to stand for 
you croakin’ yerself, see? I breaks into dis house in 
de ordinar}' wqy of business. If I gets pinched I gets 
seven years in de hoozgow fer burglary. All right. 
I takes my chance. Fair enough. Den you goes and 
blows de top off your head, and me in de house wit 
no alibi. Dey gets me fer moider. Den it’s de chair 
fer me. I ain’t goin’ to stand fer it. Us burglars 
has rights same as any other workin’ men. 

Vanderberg. 

( Recovering himself.) 

Who—who are you? 

Bill. 

Me? I’m Bill; Bill de Butch. 

Vanderberg. 

(With a deep sigh.) 

I thought you were the devil. (Waves revolver 
weakly.) Bill. 

(Dodging it.) 

Hoi’ on. Turn dat gun de other way. (Pounces 
on revolver and takes it.) 



38 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

You don’t want me to shoot myself, and you don’t 
want me to shoot you. Rather hard to please, aren’t 
you? Let’s sit down, Bill. I feel weak in the knees. 
(They sit at table , Bill right , Vanderberg left. 
Vanderberg pours out a big drink and shoves bottle 
toward Bill.) Help yourself. 

Bill. 

T’anks! ( Takes bottle and fills glass.) 

Vanderberg. 

How long have you been here? 

Bill. 

More’n two hours. I tried to get out free or four 
times, but youse was havin’ a mass meetin’ here. 

Vanderberg. 

How did you get in? 

Bill. 

Got a ladder and climbed in de bat’room window. 

way? 


No one would 
bathtub. 

Bill. 

Say, why was you goin’ to blow out your alleged 
brains ? 


Vanderberg. 

Why didn’t you go out the same 
Bill. 

Some sucker moved de ladder. 

Vanderberg. 
Where were you hiding? 

Bill. 

In de bat’tub. , r 

VANDERBERG. 

In the bathtub? Splendid idea, 
ever think of looking for you in a 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


39 


Vanderberg. 

That’s a secret, Bill, but I don’t mind telling you 
in confidence as one crook to another, that I was 
trying to defraud a life insurance company out of 

ten thousand dollars. ^ 

Bile. 

Good work. But you overlooked somethin’. 


Vanderberg. 

What’s that P „ 

Bill. 

Somebody else gets de dough. 


Vanderberg. 

That is the intention. I robbed an old man of ten 
thousand dollars, and— 

Bill. 

Good work! Tr 

VANDERBERG. 

And I intend to give it back. 

Bill. 

Oh, don’t do not’in’ like that. Dat’s a fatal mis¬ 
take. It wouldn’t work, anyway. No insurance 
company’s goin’ to pay money fer death by suicide. 

Vanderberg. 

(Greatly surprised.) 


No? 


Bill. 


Not unless dere’s a special clause. 

Vanderberg. 

(Forlornly .) 

Then my last hope is gone. 

Bill. 

Dey won’t pay for suicide, but dey will for moider. 
Vanderberg. 


Moider! 



40 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Bill. 

Sure. You give me a couple of days to fix up an 
alibi and I’ll do de job and do it reasonable. 

Vanderberg. 

{Extends his hand.) 

Shake, Bill. Say, let’s talk it over. What do you 
call reasonable ? 

Bill. 

Well, de regular union price is fifteen hundred 
dollars for croakin’ a gu} r , but I’ll make youse a 
professional rate; one thousand dollars. 

Vanderberg. 

But I’m broke. ^ 

Bill. 

Dere’s de insurance. 

Vanderberg. 

That’s so. (Sitting at table.) Here’s the will. 
(Writes.) “P. S. In case I should die on or be¬ 
fore—” How long do you want, Bill? 

Bill. 

Make it a year. 

Vanderberg. 

( Writes.) 

“Or before June 9th, Dr. Barrett will pay one 
thousand dollars to—” What’s your name, Bill? 

Bill. 

Sullivan—two l’s. 

Vanderberg. 

“To William Sullivan for value received.” How’s 

that? Bill. 

(Looking at paper.) 

O. K. Say, don’t let dis git out. I wouldn’t like 
de gang to know I was cuttin’ prices. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


41 


Vanderberg. 

I will observe the greatest secrecy, both before 
and after. 

JBill. 

( Briskly.) 

How do you want de job done? Suppose I sneak 
up behind you some dark night and stick you in de 
ribs wit 5 a butcher knife? 

Vanderberg. 

( Uneasily .) 

Em—er—isn’t there any other way? 

Bill. 

Sure. I can lay for youse around a corner and 
split yer head open wit 5 an axe. 

Vanderberg. 

{Nervously.) 

I don’t seem to care for that either. 


Bill. 

(With a bright idea.) 

A little prussic acid in your coffee. Dat’s a gen¬ 
teel way of croakin’. You stiffen right out, quiet 
and refined. 


Good Heavens! 


Vanderberg. 
( Shuddering.) 
Poison! No. 


Bill. 

(Losing patience.) 

Say, youse is de most particular guy I ever seen. 
I’ll have to tickle youse to death wit’ a goose feather. 

Vanderberg. 

I tell you, Bill. I’ll leave the date and the method 
entirely with you. I don’t feel equal to choosing. 



42 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Bill. 

All right. I’ll do a nice, clean job. 

Vanderberg. 

How is it that a man with such intelligence as you 
have happens to be a burglar? 

Bill. 

Woman! Woman! My second wife—wants to 
rule de roost—nag-nag. 

Vanderberg. 

I see * Bill. 

Say, couldn’t you give me a little on account? 

Vanderberg 

On account of what? 

Bill. 

On account of my second wife. She’ll raise de devil 
when she finds out dis job was a fizzle. 

Vanderberg. 

Couldn’t you explain? 

Bill. 

Explanations don’t go wit’ Gladys. Results is 
what she wants. Here I’ve wasted three hours and 
not a t’ing to show for it. I guess I better take dis 
gun and tap you on de bean and clean up here. 

Vanderberg. 

{Nervously.) 

Oh, no. I wouldn’t do that, Bill. I’ve got such 
a sensitive bean. Besides, in that case I would be 
compelled—regretfully—to inform on you. 

Bill. 

{Dejectedly.) 

I can’t have no luck lately. Well, I’ll take a few 
cigars and beat it. {Taking cigars from box.) 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


43 


Vanderberg. 

( With a sudden cheerful thought.) 

Bill! I’ve changed my mind. Have you a bag? 

Bill. 

I got my keester. 

Vanderberg. 

Get it. (Bill exits center , returning with grip.) 
Now, help yourself. Take anything you want. ( Go¬ 
ing to mantel.) Here’s a fine pair of candlesticks— 

silver. ^ 

Bill. 

’Nough said. (Begins to fill grip with valuables , 
Vanderberg assisting him. Door bell rings off left.) 
De bulls! 


(Vanderberg cautiously opens hall door.) 
Digby enters from the hall. He looks at Bill in 
astonishment , then puts hat and cane in rack. 

Digby. 

Who’s your cock-eyed friend? 

Vanderberg. 

This is Mr. DeButch. 


Digby. 

He looks like a burglar. 

Vanderberg. 

He is. -p. 

Digby. 

What’s he doing now? 

Vanderberg. 


Burgling. 

(Bill, reassured , continues gathering loot.) 
Digby. 


Are you mad? 



44 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

( Pleasantly .) 

Not half as mad as Cullen is going to be when he 

finds out about this. ^ 

Digby. 

By George, that’s so! Everything belongs to 
Cullen. Here! ( Picking up a silver ornament and 
handing it to Bill.) Here’s something you over¬ 
looked that is valuable. 

Bill. 

T’anks. Digby. 

(Dragging the cellarette to Bill.) 

Take this along. Solid mahogany—valuable just 

now * Bill. 

Gentlemen, gentlemen. Your kindness overwhelms 
me, but dis is too much. I got all I can get awa; 
wit’. I’m goin’ to beat it. 

Vanderberg. 

Don’t forget our contract. 

Bill. 

Leave dat to me, boss. Dere ain’t not’in’ wrong 
wit’ my memory. Good-night, gents. {Exits, center 
door.) 

(Digby is now left of table , and Van at right.) 
Digby. 

{Amused.) 

Cullen will froth at the mouth when he finds this 
out. 

Bill re-enters , center , takes Digby’s hat and cane 
from rack and leaves his own old cap. Digby pours 
out a drink. 

Digby. 

Here’s to Bill. I hope he “gets away wid it.” 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


45 


now. 


(Bill exits , unnoticed , into hall.) 

Vanderberg. 

What did you come back for? 

Digby. 

Trouble. ^ 

Vanderberg. 

I thought so. 

& Digby. 

If you are going to leave, you’d better leave right 
Vanderberg. 

Wh ^ ? d isby . 

Kelley of the Times met me at the club, and he 
says the federal authorities are going after you for 
sending fraudulent matter through the mail—mining 
stock, you know. (Vanderberg turns away.) Better 
change your clothes and get away at once. 

Vanderberg. 

I’m not going to run away. 

Digby. 

(Out of patience.) 

Confound it, man, change your clothes anyway. 
You don’t want to go to jail in a dress suit, do you? 

Vanderberg. 

I don’t want to go to jail in any kind of a suit. 
Digby. 

I should hope not. You wouldn’t live a year in 

*^ a ^* Vanderberg. 

Don’t worry about that, Doc. I’ll probably live 
longer in jail than in any place I can think of right 
now. ( Grinning , exits center.) 

(Digby looks after him , puzzled. Then goes to 
rack for hat and cane , and discovers they are gone. 



46 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Sees Bill’s cap and shows puzzlement and disgust. 
Doorbell rings off left. Digby opens door and —) 


Millie and Joyce enter from the hall. Millie is in 
half-mourning. Both girls are well dressed. 

Millie. 

Egbert Digby, of all people! What are you doing 
in this man’s room? And what have you done with 

Joyce’s father? ^ 

J Digby. 

Hey? Millie. 

I say, where is Joyce’s father? 


Digby. 

I haven’t got him. I don’t even know her father. 
And if it comes to that, I don’t even know Joyce. 

Joyce. 

I am Joyce, Dr. Digby. My father, Professor 
Barrett, has wandered away. I thought he might 
possibly have come here, as he had some business 
dealings with Mr. Vanderberg. 

Digby. 

Professor Barrett. Yes, he was here, but he left 
quite a while ago. Mr. Cullen sent him home in his 
car. Won’t you sit down? 


Joyce. 

No, thank you. It is too late. Did father say 
anything to Mr. Vanderberg about—about— 


Yucatan? 


Digby. 

Joyce. 


YeS ‘ Digby. 

He didn’t see Vanderberg, but he told Mr. Cullen 
and myself all about it. It is very unfortunate. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


47 


Joyce. 

For us, yes. It means that I will have to leave 
college. 

& Millie. 

And do all the housework; cooking, and sweeping, 
and washing and everything—and scrubbing! 

Joyce. 

I was very angry when I heard about it this 

morning. I came right over and told the district 

attorney— , , 

J Millie. 

Yes, and he said Mr. Vanderberg would be in¬ 
dicted for swindling. T 

Joyce. 

I asked if that meant jail, and he said probably. 
I wanted to withdraw the charge, but he said it w T as 
now up to the state. I’m sorry. I didn’t want him 
to go to jail. Milije. 

He ought to go to jail! Hanging’s too good 

for him. ^ 

Digby. 

Van is sorry about it— 

Millie. 

( Interrupting .) 

How sorry? Sorry enough to give the money 
back? 


He can’t. 


Digby. 

Millie. 

That’s what I thought. Come on, Joyce. (Crosses 
to hall door,) ’Night, Egbert. 

Joyce. 

( Comprehendingly , to Millie.) 

“Egbert!” O-h! Is this the Doctor Digby you 
are always talking about? 



48 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Millie. 

Joyce Barrett! T 

J Joyce. 

Oh, it’s all right. You’re engaged, so what’s wrong 

about it ? , r 

Millie. 

He’s engaged to me, but I’m not engaged to him. 
If I find anyone nicer than he—it’s all off. 

Joyce. 

And if he should find any one nicer than you? 
Millie. 

He couldn’t! Good-night. 

(Laughing , Millie hurries Joyce off left , and they 
exeunt into hall , just as —) 

Vanderberg enters quickly , center , in time to catch 
a glimpse'of them. 

Vanderberg. 

(Seizing Digby’s arm , who is looking after the girls.) 

Who is that girl? 

& Digby. 

(Closing door.) 

He ? ? Vanderberg. 

Who is that girl? 

Which one? 

The beautiful one. 

That’s Millie! 


Digby. 
Vanderberg. 
Digby. 


Vanderberg. 

Millie! Millie! What a heavenly name. That is 
the girl I told you about—the girl of my dreams. 

Digby. 


Huh? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


49 


Vanderberg. 

( With enthusiasm .) 

This gives me a new lease on life. I’m going to 
live—to live—for love. 


Digby. 

I’m sorry, old man, but you’re too late. She is 
going to marry me. 

Vanderberg. 

You! ( Laughs .) Quit your kidding. 

Digby. 

I tell you, she is. We’ve been engaged for months, 
and we’d have been married before this, only her 
aunt died. You saw she was wearing black. 


Man! Man! 
Who is she? 


Vanderberg. 

It’s the other one—the other one! 
Digby. 


Joyce Barrett. , r 

Vanderberg. 

Joyce! Joyce! What a heavenly name. That 
girl is going to be my wife. 


Digby. 

l’m sorry, old man, but it can’t be. 


Vanderberg. 

Can’t be? Why can’t it be? Lord, but you’re 
the human wet blanket! You can’t marry them 
both. 


Digby. 

Didn’t you get the name? 
ter of Professor Barrett. 


Barrett—the daugh- 


Vanderberg. 

(Sinks in chair with a moan , then rises quickly and 
hangs his fist on table.) 

I’ll not give up! I’ll go out and work and pay 



5j 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


back every cent of that ten thousand dollars! This 

is the woman I’ve been waiting for all my life! The 

ideal of my dreams! -r. 

J Digby. 

All right; all right. But for heaven’s sake shut 
off some of the steam. 

Vanderberg. 

{Eagerly.) 

For the next twelve months, Doc, I’m going to be 
a busy man. First, I’ve got to earn ten thousand 
dollars to pay the professor. Second, I’ve got to 
find his daughter and marry her. Third, I’ve got to 
get square with Cullen. Meanwhile I’ve got to dodge 
the police in order to keep out of jail. 

(Vanderberg goes up to rack and puts on hat, then 
comes center. As Vanderberg goes up —) 

Bill puts his head in the window, fires at Vander¬ 
berg as he comes down stage with hat on, and disap- 

pearS ■ Digby. 

{Scared.) 

Van! Are you hurt? 

Vanderberg. 

{Takes off hat and puts finger through hole in hat, 
presumably made by bullet; speaks slowly.) 
Doc, there is one bet I overlooked—Bill the Butch. 
As I said before, I expect to be kept pretty busy for 
the next twelve months. 

Curtain, 



NEVER TOUGHED ME 


The Second Act. 

Scene: Dining room in Professor Barret fs flat 
in Weehawken, N. J. The casual observer would call 
the place shabby. There is certainly no indication of 
luxury. The walls are done in some dull tint, and a 
square of linoleum or carpet, in the same tone, covers 
the floor. 

There are four doors, two in the rear wall and one 
on either side. Kntrance to the flat is gained by the 
left door. Opposite, in the right wall, is the door to 
the kitchen. In the rear wall, left of center, is a door 
which, when open, discloses a plain bedroom. In the 
same wall, at the right, is the fourth door, which 
opens into the pantry, where shelves with jars and 
bottles of preserves, etc., can be seen. In the left 
wall, near the footlights, is a bay window with a 
cushion seat. The windows of the bay are fitted with 
roller shades. 

A square table is .down center. On it is a white 
cover, and a lighted reading lamp. A small upright 
piano is against the right wall, up stage from the 
kitchen door. A large, worn morris chair is between 
table and bay window. There are three ordinary 
chairs at the table. On the rear wall, between pantry 
and bedroom doors, is a zvall telephone. A hatrack 
is in the upper left corner, by the hall door. Police 
whistles off right and left. Patrol gong off left. 
Glass crash off left. 

At Rise : Cullen and Professor are discovered, 
both seated at the table. On the table in front of 
51 



52 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Cullen is a portfolio containing samples of leather¬ 
ette. „ 

Cullen. 

( Bluntly .) 

Well, Barrett, I guess I’ll have to admit that the 
whole thing is a failure. For six months I’ve been 
trying to interest capital in your invention, but it’s 
no go. They all say that you have underestimated 
the cost of erecting a plant. And they are also skep¬ 
tical about leatherette. There have been so many 
imitation leathers, and they’ve all fizzled out. 

Professor. 

I am sorry to hear this, Mr.—er—Mullen. I had 
rather depended on you. I don’t mind saying living 
conditions with me are getting rather desperate—er 
—money is scarce, and the rent and gas— (Rising.) 
Well, I won’t bore you with my poverty. I must try 
and interest someone else in my unfortunate inven¬ 
tion. ~ 

Cullen. 

Have you spoken to any one else about this? 

Professor. 

Only to the young man who is rooming—or rather, 

boarding—with us. ~ 

& Cullen. 

What business is he in? 

Professor. 

He is a laborer at the docks. What they call a 

stevedore, I believe. „ 

Cullen. 

What does he think about it? 

Professor. 

He is quite enthusiastic. He is sure he could mar¬ 
ket the invention if I would let him. He says there 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


53 


are lots of capitalists who would jump at an invest¬ 
ment of that kind. 

Cullen'. 

He thinks he does, does he? Well, let me ask you, 
Barrett. Who is likely to know the most about 
financial conditions—this dock-walloper or a business 

man like myself? _ 

Professor. 

You, of course. But since you cannot do anything 
to help me, I must make the best of it. 

Cullen. 

Hold on. I didn’t say I couldn’t help you. If 
you are willing to sell your formula outright at a 
reasonable figure, I have a friend who might buy it. 

Professor. 

What do you consider a reasonable figure? 

Cullen, 

He will consider it at a thousand dollars. ‘ 

Professor. 

A thousand dollars! That isn’t very much. 

Cullen. 

{Smoothly.) 

A thousand would come in mighty handy just 
now, wouldn’t it? It would go a long way in the 
matter of rent and light and so on. I guess your 
daughter would think a thousand-dollar check a god¬ 
send right now. Think of the worry and work that 
money would save her. 

Professor. 

{Sighs; then smiles a weary smile.) 

Very well. “Needs must when the devil drives.” 
I’ll accept the thousand. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


54 


Cullen*. 

Of course, I am not sure that he will buy, you un¬ 
derstand. I only say I think he will. I’ll take a 
sample of leatherette and show it to him this even¬ 
ing. If I close the deal I’ll return in an hour or so 
with the check. Professor. 

(Giving him sample from portfolio .) 

At one time I had hoped to manufacture leather¬ 
ette myself. ~ 

J Cullen. 

Yes, I know. That was before young Vanderberg 
robbed you. I sympathize with you. He robbed me, 

^°°* Professor. 

Robbed you? Cullen. 

The night he left New York—the night I met you 
at his rooms. The police attempted to serve a war¬ 
rant on him, but the bird had flown, taking with him 
many valuable articles from the rooms. I held a 
chattel mortgage on all his belongings. 

Professor. 

And the police have no idea where he is? 

Cullen. 

No. He’s got them guessing, and one man’s guess 
is as good as another’s. I read in the papers every 
day or so that some one has seen him in Chicago or 
Kansas City or Frisco. My opinion is that he got 
out of the country altogether; Europe or Central 
America. Well, I hope they get him. 

Joyce,, carrying a tray of food , enters from the 
kitchen . 

Joyce. 

I beg your pardon, Mr. Cullen. I did not kno. 
you were here. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


55 


Cullen. 

(Putting sample in pocket.) 

Don’t mind me. I’m just going. Good-night, 
Miss Barrett. Good-night, professor. If I have any 
luck I’ll be back in an hour or so. (Exits into hall.) 


(Joyce puts tray on table , goes up to bedroom door 
and knocks.) 

Vanderberg. 

(Off stage.) 

Yes? T 

Joyce. 

Your supper is ready, Mr. Rootendorlandorf. 

Vanderberg. 

(Off stage.) 

All right. Thank you. 


(Joyce comes down and arranges dishes and food on 
table.) 


Professor. 

How long has that young man been boarding with 
? 

Joyce. 

About six months. 


Professor. 

I like him. He appears to be a gentleman— 
though unfortunate as regards his name. 

Joyce. 

The board money has enabled us to keep out of 
Professor. 

I think the tide of our fortunes is about to turn, 
my dear. Mr. Cullen has offered me a thousand 
dollars for my patent right to leatherette. 



56 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Joyce. 

( Surprised .) 

But, daddy, you always said it was worth millions. 


Professor. 

( Wearily.) 

Castles in Spain, my dear. Mr. Cullen is a busi¬ 
ness man, and he assures me I am fortunate in getting 
a thousand dollars. 


Vanderberg enters from bedroom. He is dressed 
as a workman , and carries his dinner pail , which he 
places beside the door as he enters. 


Vanderberg. 

(Coming to table.) 

Good evening. T 

° Joyce. 

Good evening, Mr. Rootendorlandorf. Sit down 
and let me help you to some fish. 

Vanderberg. 

(Sitting at table.) 

Thank you. T 

47 Joyce. 

Daddy, pour some tea. (Professor pours. Joyce 
hands Vanderberg a plate.) You look tired. 


Vanderberg. 

I am. The Casa Blanca leaves port for Rio Ja¬ 
neiro to-morrow, and we had to get a hundred ton of 
salt under hatches before we knocked off. 


Joyce. 

You have to work very hard. So do I. Oh, it’s 
an unjust world. {Bitterly.) Here we are, living 
from hand to mouth, while that young scoundrel Van¬ 
derberg— 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


57 


Vanderberg. 

(With a start.) 

I beg your pardon? 

Joyce. 

I say that young scoundrel Vanderberg who robbed 
father is probably at this minute eating a seven- 
course dinner with wine. 


Vanderberg. 

(Toying with fish , about to put a piece in his mouth.) 
Yes? 

Joyce. 

I hope the next bit he takes chokes him. 
(Vanderberg puts his fork with the fish on it back 
on his plate.) 

Vanderberg. 

I remember reading in the newspapers that this— 
er—young scoundrel Vanderberg, lost all his money, 

Professor. 

( Rising.) 

If you will excuse me I believe I’ll take a little walk 
around the block. ( Putting up blind , which admits 
greenish light from outside.) It has stopped snow¬ 
ing, and a breath of fresh air will do me good. 
Joyce. 

(Helping him into his topcoat.) 

Yes, father. But you’ll be very careful, won’t you? 
Professor. 

Oh, yes, my dear. I’m always careful. 

(After the Professor exits into hall , Joyce comes 
back to table and sits.) 

Vanderberg. 

This—er—Vanderberg may be just as sorry about 
that mining stock as you are. And I don’t think 



58 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


you should hate him so. You know lie lost all his 
money, most of his friends, and lie’s forced to sneak 
about under an assumed name for fear of arrest. 


Joyce. 

Yes, I suppose I ought not to feel as I do, but— 
oh, I’m so discouraged and blue to-night. 


Vanderberg. 
Can’t you tell me the trouble? 


Joyce. 

It’s father. He is going to sell his invention for a 
trifling thousand dollars, and I know it is worth 
more—much more. 

Vanderberg. 

Is Cullen the man who is paying a thousand dol¬ 
lars for it? T 

Joyce. 


Y £g # 

Vanderberg. 

I warned your father about him. That man is a 

crook. T 

Joyce. 

I know he is. He was Vanderberg’s partner. 
(Pause.) Tr 

v ' VANDERBERG. 

Is the deal closed? 


Joyce. 

I don’t know. I saw Mr. Cullen take a sample of 
the leatherette away with him. 


Vanderberg. 

Then your father is lucky if he even gets a thou¬ 
sand for it. Cullen will have that sample analyzed. 
The invention is not patented. Once he discovers 
how it’s made, he’ll steal it and never pay your father 
a cent. 





NEVER TOUCHED ME 


59 


Joyce. 

( Despondently.) 

Oh, well, let’s not talk about it. We are bound 
to be robbed one way or another. Let’s talk of some¬ 
thing; else. , r 

VANDERBERG. 

Suppose this Vanderberg should restore the money 
he—he stole. Could you forgive him? 

Joyce. 

I suppose so. What does one crook more or less 
matter in a world of crooks? 

Vanderberg. 

( Uncomfortably .) 

Let’s talk of something else. 

Joyce. 

Certainly. What shall it be? 

Vanderberg. 

Let’s talk of love. 

Joyce. 

Have you anything fresh to say on that subject? 

Vanderberg. 

I have something to say that you will probably 
think pretty fresh. ( Brave at first , but becomes 
weak.) Joyce, I’ve known you for six months, and 
I think it is time that you and me—you and I—had 
an understanding. If you and me—I mean I and 
me—were to get—were to get— (Stops.) 

Joyce. 

Are you trying to propose to me, Henry? (He 
nods.) Then come over here on my side of the table. 
I refuse to be proposed to across a plate of fish. (He 
goes to her and she rises.) Henry, you’re a fright- 



60 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


ful fraud. Now, repeat after me in a firm voice: 
“Joyce, I love you. Will you be my wife?” 

Vanderberg. 

( Huskily.) 

Joyce, I love you. Will you be my wife? 

J OYCE. 

Thank you. Yes, I will. 

Vanderberg. 

You will? Well, what do you know about that? 
Joyce. 

(Feigning disappointment.) 

Well! Henry, haven’t you any gumption at all? 
Must I do everything? 

Vanderberg. 

What do you mean, everything? 

Joyce. 

Oh, fiddle! ( Kisses him.) 

Vanderberg. 

(Getting wise.) 

Oh! I forgot it is kisstomary to cuss—I mean 
customary to kiss—( Kisses her again. Knock at hall 
door. She struggles.) Come in! 

Joyce. 

( Struggling.) 

Henry! 

Digby enters from hall , carrying a large paper box. 

(Vanderberg is so surprised that he loosens his hold , 
and Joyce runs out through kitchen door at right.) 

Vanderberg. 


Doc! 



61 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Digby. 

{Seizing his hand.) 

Vanderberg! _ r 

Vanderberg. 

Pianissimo diminuendo on the “Vanderberg.” 
Digby. 

What’s the matter? 

Vanderberg. 

That’s not my name-around here. 

Digby. 

(Placing his package against rear wall , then sits 
right of table.) 

Well, what is your name? 

Vanderberg. 

I’ve forgotten it myself. But it doesn’t matter. 

How are you? 

J Digby. 

Fine! I’ve been looking for you for six months. 
Vanderberg. 

Plenty people been looking for me for six months. 
If they find me I’ll get six years. 

Digby. 

The police think you have skipped the country. 
What are you doing, anyway? 

Vanderberg. 

I’m working at the dock; stevedore. And if you 
don’t believe me, there’s my dinner pail. ( Points to 

Digby. 

You are working right here in Weehawken? 
Vanderberg. 


Yes. 




62 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Digby. 

Good Lord! Twenty minutes from police head¬ 
quarters ! How do you happen to be in Barrett’s 
house, of all places in the world? 

Vanderberg. 

Simple enough. I used to pass the house every 
night on the odd chance of seeing Joyce. One night 
I noticed a “Room and board” sign in the window, 
so I walked in and hung up my hat. 

Digby. 

Do they know that you are Vanderberg? 


Vanderberg. 

I hope not! Joyce hates Vanderberg. Doc, do 
you remember my saying that I had three things 
to do inside of a year?—to pay Barrett the ten 
thousand dollars I owe him; to marry Joyce, and to 
get even with Cullen? 

Digby. 


Yes. 

Well, I’m 
marry me. 


Vanderberg. 

on my way. Joyce has promised to 
Digby. 


Vanderberg. 

Yes. It happened a few minutes ago. 
was just kissing her when you butted in. 
been shot for less than that. 


In fact I 
Men have 


Digby. 

See here, Van. Do you think it’s exactly the right 
thing to make love to this girl while you are under 
cover—and under an alias? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


63 


Vanderberg. 

( Emphatically .) 

I do. I’ve lain awake nights thinking that same 
thing, Doc. But this is how I figure it out. She 
hates a man called Vanderberg. She has never seen 
him, but she imagines he’s a cold-blooded scoundrel 
who deliberately swindled her father and who is now 
living in Europe, squandering the money on wine, 
women and seven-course dinners. Now you know, 
Doc, that kind of a Vanderberg never existed. The 
real Vanderberg is in Weehawken, getting up at five- 
thirty every morning, going to work at the docks 
and carrying bags of salt till his knees give out. 
He’s a fool, but he’s an honest fool and she loves 
him. This being the fact, why should I give up my 
chance of happiness for a man who never existed ex¬ 
cept in a girl’s imagination ? 


Digby. 

But she is bound to find out that you are Vander- 

k er ^‘ Vanderberg. 

She is not going to find it out until I have paid 
her father every cent I owe him and squared up 
everything. 

J & Digby. 

When will that be? 


Vanderberg. 

Well, I’ve made a start. I’ve saved up sixty-three 
dollars and seventy cents. 

Digby. % 

You’ll have to strike for higher wages, Van. 
Vanderberg. 

Oh, they pay me all I’m worth. The trouble is, I 
can’t save. The money just seems to melt away. I 



64 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


think I’ll get a job as night watchman. I’d be awake 
all night—that would save my room rent—and sleep 
all day and save my board. 


Digby. 

Well, Joyce is a fine girl. She’s worth working 

and waiting for. , r 

Vanderberg. 

You haven’t said half of it. She’s the sweetest 
and most lovable woman in the world. But my Lord, 
Doc, she’s a terrible cook! 


Digby. 

Sure! (Laughing.) They don’t teach them to 
cook at Vassar. 

Vanderberg. 

Guess I might as well finish my dinner. You know, 
Doc, the first night I was here we had fish for dinner. 
Joyce asked me if I liked fish, and I said I loved it. 
Since then I’ve had fish for every meal. Yes, Doc, 
I hold the champion long-distance fish record of the 
world. I eat it here and I smell it down at the docks. 
It even pursues me in my sleep. Last night I dreamed 
that a salt mackerel shot me through the heart with 
a codfish ball. (Sits right of table.) Ouch! (Jump¬ 
ing up , tabes automatic from hip pocket. This gun 
has a flashlight fastened by wire along the top of the 
barrel.) I sit on that gun twenty times a day. 

Digby. 

(Picking up the weapon.) 

Why do you carry it? 


Vanderberg. 

Been rather uneasy. Twice lately I thought I 
saw Bill the Butch following me on my way home at 
night. You remember Bill—the fellow with the green 
patch on his eye. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


65 


Digby. 

The burglar! Do you suppose he’s after your 
sixty-three dollars and seventy cents? 

Vanderberg. 

I knew what he’s after, all right. 

Digby. 

( Examining gun .) 

What’s this jigger on the top? 

Vanderberg. 

It’s a spotlight. A little idea of mine. You see, 
Doc, I’m a rotten shot, so I figured this thing out. I 
got that arranged so that all I have to do is turn the 
light on anything, then pull the trigger, and the bul¬ 
let will hit right in the middle of the spot of light. 
You can’t miss. If the spotlight is on a man, he’s a 

goner ‘ Digby. 

( Interested .) 

Well, I’ll be hanged. You say this is your own 
idea? Tr 

VANDERBERG. 

(Puffing up a little.) 

My very own! Digby 

Let me take this for a couple of days, will you? 

Vanderberg. 

(Beginning to eat again.) 

Sure - Digby. 

(Putting gun in pocket.) 

You don’t suppose Bill would tip you off to the 

police? ir 

r Vanderberg. 

That isn’t his game. Had a pretty narrow squeak 

to-night, though. 



66 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Digby. 

^ es ‘ Vanderberg. 

Cullen was here. 

Digby. 

Good Lord! Did he see you? 

Vanderberg. 

No. I was in my room. Just the door between 
us. 

Digby. 

Van, if he ever sees you, you might as well give 

yourself up to the police at once. You know how he 

loves you. TT 

J Vanderberg. 

I know. If he had ever opened that door I would 

have been halfway down the fire escape, headed for 

Chicago. Funny that my best friend and worst 

enemy should both call the same evening. By the 

way, how did you happen to be here? 

Digby. 

Millie. TT 

Vanderberg. 

Millie? Oh, yes; the girl in the black dress. 
Digby. 

She is a friend of Miss Barrett’s. She is interested 

in the Christmas tree for the children’s ward at the 

hospital, and I’m the Santa Claus. That’s my 

wardrobe. ( Pointing to suit box that he carried in.) 

She should have been here at seven o’clock. I’ll ask 

Miss Barrett if she ’phoned any message. ( Knocks 

on kitchen door.) T 

' Joyce. 

(Off right.) 

Come. 


(Digby exits right , just as a woman's scream is heard 
off left , and as Vanderberg jumps to his feet —) 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


67 


Millie rushes in from hall , left , and comes straight 
to his arms . 


Millie. 

(In terror.) 

Oh, that awful man! 

Vanderberg. 

What man? , , 

Millie. 

{Agitated.) 

Out there! He—he looked like a murderer! He 
—he had a great glittering knife—that long— 
{arms full width apart) —and he—he had it con¬ 
cealed— , r 

Vanderberg. 

{Soothingly.) 

Yes—yes. Please tell me everything. Don’t be 
afraid. Millie. 

He was on the landing. He said he’d kill me if I 
made a sound. 

Vanderberg. 

What did he look like? 


Millie. 

A monster! He was a big man with red hair and a 
green patch on his eye. 

Vanderberg. 

Bill! And Doc’s got my gun. 

{Crash of glass is heard off left.) 

Millie. 

Oh, save me! 

{Rushes into Vanderberg’s arms again as —) 
Digby and Joyce enter from the kitchen. 
Joyce. 

Henry! 



68 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Not at all! 


Digby. 

Millie! What’s the meaning of this? 

Vanderberg. 

I was—er—saving the lady. ( Looks at Millie in 
embarrassment . Joyce is cool.) I—I imagine you 
were somewhat surprised to find us in each other’s 

arms, but— T 

Joyce. 

(Icily.) 

Digby. 

( With sarcasm.) 

Oh, not at all; not—at— all! 

Vanderberg. 

The fact is, the lady had a shock. 

Digby. 

We all had. , r 

VANDERBERG. 

She was frightened about a man. 

Joyce. 

( Sarcastically .) 

Strange. She is not usually afraid of men. 
(Millie gasps and glares at Joyce.) 
Vanderberg. 

She ran in here screaming “Save me, save me!”— 
and I did. 

Digby. 

How long since? 

Vanderberg. 

About ten minutes. 

Joyce. 

You’ve been saving her for ten minutes? 

Vanderberg. 

Oh, no—just on and off. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


69 


Millie. 

(To Vanderberg.) 

Idiot! ( Turns to Joyce.) Won’t you introduce 

me to your friend? T 

Joyce. 

You get along so well without an introduction, 
I’m afraid to have you meet socially. 

Millie. 

Well, my dear, you should put a sign on him: 
“Private property—keep off.” 

Joyce. • 

Miss Vaughn, this is Mr. Rootendorlandorf. 

(They shake hands. Digby goes to box.) 
Millie. 

How do you do, Mr. Root—what a terrible name! 

I know it can’t be managed by me. What’s your 

Christian name? , r 

Vanderberg. 

Henry. Call me Henry. 

Millie. 

All right, I will. 

(Knock is heard at left door , jrom hall. Vander¬ 
berg, startled , rushes up to Digby, grabs him and 
throws him around soJhat Digby is between him and 
the door.) 

' Digby. 

{Struggling.) 

Say, what’s the matter with you, anyway? 
Vanderberg. 

{To Joyce, who is crossing to left door.) 

Don’t open that door. Don’t open that door! 

Joyce. 

{In surprise.) 


Why not? 



70 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Millie. 

It might be the man. 

Joyce. 

I will try not to betray my agitation, even if it 
should happen to be two men. ( Opens door.) Why 
it’s Agnes. Come in, dear. 

Agnes enters from hall. She is a girl about seven¬ 
teen years of age , vivacious and inclined to giggle. 
She wears a nurse's uniform and carries a small paper 
bag containing a Sauta Claus beard , evidently home¬ 
made. 

Agnes. 

Hello, Joyce. Hello, Millie.- Good evening, doc¬ 
tor. Am I late? I had an awful time finding the 
place. I made the whiskers, doctor. Made ’em out 
of cotton batting and fastened them to the cap. I’ll 
bet you’ll be a scream in them. (Giggles.) Try 
’em on. ( Takes beard and cap from bag.) 

(Digby crosses to Agnes.) 

Joyce. 

Why, Agnes, I didn’t know that you were to make 
the beard. I made one, too. 

Agnes. 

That’s too bad. Well, never mind. He can wear 
the one that’s most becoming. 

J OYCE. 

Miss Wilson, this is Mr. Rootendorlandorf. (Van- 
derberg has been standing up stage in a brown study 
ever since Agnes made her entrance , and pays no at¬ 
tention to what Joyce says. She crosses to Vander- 
berg and shakes his arm impatiently.) Wake up, 
Henry. I— 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


71 


Vanderberg. 

{Startled.) 

Joyce. 

I am introducing you to Miss Wilson. 
Vanderberg. 

Oh, yes. Certainly. Certainly. {He crosses to 
where Digby and Agnes are standing. He is still 
thinking of Bill the Butch.) Which is Miss Wil- 

SOn? Digby. 

{In mock-kindly tone.) 

I am Miss Wilson. And I’m glad to know you, Mr. 
Rubberhead. 

VANDERBERG. 

{To Digby.) 

Back up. {To Agnes.) I beg your pardon, Miss 
Wilson. I am unusually stupid this evening. I see 
that you are a nurse. 

Digby. 

Yes. That’s the reason you are being introduced. 

You need a nurse. . 

Agnes. 

{Giggling.) 

Oh, doctor; you do say the funniest things. Don’t 
you think he says the funniest things, Mr. Rubber- 
head? 

(Digby goes up stage and picks up box.) 
Vanderberg. 

Yes, I do. I can hardly keep from laughing at 
some of the funny things he says. And my name is 

not Rubberhead. . 

Agnes. 

I beg your pardon. I thought the doctor said— 
Vanderberg. 

Yes, that’s one of the funny things he says. 



72 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Agnes. 

What is your name? 

Vanderberg. 

My name is—er—( Feels in pocket.) Just a min¬ 
ute. I’ve got it written down somewhere. 


J OYCE. 

{Impatiently.) 

Oh, call him Henry. All my friends call him 
Henry. ( Looks at Millie.) 


Millie. 

Yes, indeed. (To Digby.) 


Digby. 

Millie. 
I want you to meet Henry. 


Well? 


Egbert. 


Digby. 

( Untying the box.) 

I’ve met Henry several times. And I would great¬ 
ly appreciate it if Henry would give me a hand with 
this instead of standing there making a monkey of 
himself. ( Taking Santa Claus suit from box.) 


Vanderberg. 

(Crossing to Digby.) 

Sure. Always ready to oblige. Ah! The cele¬ 
brated brothers, Hen and Egg, will now do their well 
known sketch, “Xmas comes but once a year.” 


(Digby puts on the Santa Claus costume , aided by 
Vanderberg. It is a loose affair which must come 
down well below the knees.) 


Digby. 

We’re going to be late if we don’t start pretty 
soon. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


73 


Millie. 

Yes; hurry, Joyce. Isn’t Henry coming? 
Vanderberg. 

Henry hasn’t been invited. 

J OYCE. 

Oh, Henry, what a mean thing to say! You know 
we would be glad to have you go. I didn’t say any¬ 
thing because you always seem to dislike going places 
where there are strangers. Won’t you please come? 

Vanderberg. 

Sure. T 

Joyce. 

All right. Won’t be a minute. Come on, girls. 
(Millie, Joyce and Agnes exeunt into kitchen .) 
Vanderberg. 

Doc, Bill the Butch is hanging around this house. 
Digby. 

Bill the Butch! 

Vanderberg. 

Yes. He was the man who frightened Miss Vaughn. 
Digby. 

What do you suppose he wants? 

Vanderberg. 

He wants me. Oh, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you 
some other time. You remember the man who shot a 
hole in my hat that night in New York? 

Digby. 

Yes. 


Vanderberg. 


That was Bill. 


Digby. 

By George! You had better not run any risks. 
You hadn’t better go to-night. 



74 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

Do you imagine that I am going to stay in this 
flat all alone with that one-eyed devil skulking around 
the hallways ? I guess not! 

Digby. 

Well, get ready, then. 

Vanderberg. 

This is all I have except my overalls. 

Digby. 

You’ve got a hat, haven’t you? 

Vanderberg. 

Yes 

1 eS * Digby. 

(Taking off the Santa Claus suit and placing it on 

chair.) 

Well, go put it on. 

(Vanderberg exits into bedroom, as —) 

Joyce enters from kitchen, putting on her hat. 

Joyce. 

Come in here, doctor. I want you and Millie to 
try some of my Christmas cake. You know I’m be¬ 
coming quite a cook. 

Digby. 

(Dryly.) 

So Henry has been telling me. 

(Digby and Joyce exeunt into kitchen, right.) 

Bill cautiously sticks his head in door, left, from 
hall. He enters, goes to bay window, raises blind, 
looks out and presently draws back as if afraid of be¬ 
ing seen. Crosses center, sees Santa Claus suit, ex¬ 
amines it, then dons coat, wig and beard, and cap. 
The wig and beard almost cover his face. He takes 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


75 


off the green patch and is at door, right, listening, 
when Vanderberg enters from his room. Vander- 
berg has on a hat , and a different necktie . 


Vanderberg. 

(Mistaking Bill for Digby.) 
All right, Doc. I’m ready. 


Bill. 

(Turning sharply.) 

Vanderberg. 

I say I’m ready any time you are. 


Huh? 


Bill. 

Do you know me? 


Vanderberg. 

Sure I know you, but no one else would. That’s a 
great make-up. You must have a feather-bed stuffed 
in there. (Giving Bill a poke in the stomach .) 


Bill. 

Ooff! (Goes to center.) Sh! To-night’s the 

night. Ready? -r r 

® J Vanderberg. 

Ready and waiting. 

Bill. 

All right. (Looks out window again. Then draws 
large, vicious looking knife from under left arm pit, 
and sneaks toward Vanderberg, who is polishing his 
nails on the palm of his hand , or otherwise engaged. 
As Bill draws near, Vanderberg notices uplifted 

knife.) , r 

1 Vanderberg. 

Why the knife? That’s out of the character. You 

are supposed to be impersonating Santa Claus, not 

Captain Kidd. 



76 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Bill. 

(Lowering knife.) 

No; not to-night. I’m spotted— 

Vanderberg. 

Where ? ^ 

Bill. 

I’ll get you when you go home to-night. 
Vanderberg. 

What? 

Bill. 

I’ll get you when you go home to-night. ( Exits 
into hall , just as —) 

Digby enters from kitchen. 

Vanderberg. 

( Puzzled , comes to Digby.) 

Didn’t you just go out that door? ( Points left.) 

Digby. 

^ ’ Vanderberg. 

(Showing a little excitement.) 

Didn’t you just go out that door? 

Digby. 

(Pointing right.) 

I just came in that door. 


Vanderberg. 

( Pauses , then sinks in morris chair.) 

“I’ll get you when you go home to-night.” 

Digby. 

What? Say, are you trying to start something? 
Vanderberg. 

(Not hearing Digby; stunned.) 

Bill the Butch! (Rouses himself .) Well, I’ll fool 
him. I won’t go home till morning. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


77 


Agnes enters from kitchen. She is still carrying her 
Santa Claus cap and heard. 

Agnes. 

I’ve just got to sit down and rest. I never was so 
tired in all my life. ( Sits right of table.) I expect 
I walked miles trying to find this place. I would 
have given it up and gone back home only I had to 
bring the doctor’s whiskers. 

Vanderberg. 

( Absent-mindedly.) 

Did Doc forget his whiskers? Very careless of 
him. A man should never forget his whiskers. 

Agnes. 

{Giggles.) 

Oh, I think you are such a funny man. I meant 
the Santa Claus whiskers, not the doctor’s own 
whiskers. He couldn’t forget his own whiskers. 

Vanderberg. 

Of course not. No one could. No one who had 
ever seen Doc’s whiskers could ever forget ’em. 

Digby. 

Say, lay off me, will you ? 

Agnes. 

Even when I found the house I didn’t know what 
floor the Barrett’s lived on, and I went wandering 
up and down stairs till I met a big, red-headed man 

and he said— , r 

Vanderberg. 

{Startled.) 

A red-headed man? What did he look like? 

Agnes. 

He looked like a peddler, and he— 



78 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

A peddler? . 

• Agnes. 

Yes. He had a glass eye. 

Vanderberg. 

A glass eye? Agnes. 

Well, there was something the matter with his eye. 
He had a green patch over it. 

(Digby has been putting lid bach on box. He throws 
box into corner of room.) 

Vanderberg. 

{At sound of box falling , jumps to his feet in alarm. 
Looks around , sees that it is Digby who 
made the noise.) 

Don’t do that. 

Professor enters from hall , left. 

Professor. * 

Ah; good-evening, everybody. 

Agnes. 

Good evening, Professor Barrett. ( Crosses to 
Professor and shakes hands.) Do you remember 

me * Professor. 

Perfectly. You are a little friend of Joyce’s. 

Agnes. 

^ eS * Professor. 

I never forget a face or a name. I have a remark¬ 
able memory. It was only yesterday that I asked 
Joyce about you. I said, “How is it your little 
friend Millie never comes to see you?” 

Agnes. 

But my name isn’t Millie. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


79 


Professor. 

Eh? Not Millie? . 

Agnes. 

No. It’s Agnes. 

Professor. 

'Yes, of course—Agnes. I remember perfectly. 
You are little Agnes Defoe, and you are a reporter 
on a newspaper. Isn’t that right? 

Agnes. 

Well—pretty nearly right. Only it isn’t Agnes 
Defoe. It’s Agnes Wilson. And I don’t work on a 
newspaper. I work in a hospital. Outside of that 
you are perfectly right. 

Professor. 

I thought so. I have a wonderful memory. 

Agnes. 

(Whispering to Vanderberg.) 

Isn’t he a dear? 

(Knock is heard at hall door , left. Digby and Van¬ 
derberg register startled attention .) 

Professor. 

Ah. Someone is knocking. (Starts to cross to 
door. As he gets to center , Vanderberg takes him 
by the arm and detains him.) 

Vanderberg. 

Er—just a moment, Professor Barrett. I want to 
ask a favor of you. 

Professor. 

Yes? -\r 

Vanderberg. 

If that person at the door should happen to be a 
peddler- PeoP e S sor. 

A peddler? 



80 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 
Yes—a peddler with a glass eye 
tell him—er— 


-I wish you would 


Professor. 


Tell him what? 


Vanderberg. 

Tell him that we don’t want any glass eyes to-day. 


Agnes. 

(Giggles.) 

You certainly are comical. 

Professor. 

(Crosses to door and opens it.) 

Ah; it’s Mr. Cullen. 

Digby. 

(In loud whisper to Vanderberg.) 

It’s Cullen. Duck! (Exits hastily into bedroom.) 

(Vanderberg, agitated , looks around and sees 
that he cannot possibly get out by the same door that 
Digby used without being seen. Starts as if to exit 
into kitchen , but Agnes is about to exit there. In 
desperation he grabs the Santa Claus beard and cap 
from her hand and hastily puts them on. He is fac¬ 
ing right. All this must be done quickly.) 

Cullen enters from hall , left . 


Cullen. 

(Seeing that there is someone else in the room.) 

Professor Barrett, I would like to speak to you in 
private. , r 

VANDERBERG. 

(Now completely disguised by cap and beard , 
which must be made in such a way that it will hide 
most of his face , turns and faces Cullen. He speaks 
in the high , cracked voice of a very old man.) “In 
private,” hey? Well, let me tell you sumpin’. You 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


81 


don’t need to go insultin’ people. I’m an old man, 
eighty-eight years old, and I’ve got the rheumatism 
sumpin’ scandalous, but I reckon I can take a hint as 
good as the next one. ( Hobbles to bedroom door , 
mumbling.) Wants to speak in private. Huh! 
(Exits into bedroom.) 

Agnes. 

(Giggles.) 

Oh, ain’t he just too comical for words! (Exits 
into kitchen , right.) q u;l;len 

Well, Barrett, I’ve closed the deal. 


Professor. 

Mr. Cullen, I’ve changed my mind about selling 
leatherette outright. I have reconsidered. 

Cullen. 

( Displeased.) 

Reconsidered ? ^ 

Professor. 

Yes. My daughter thinks— 


Cullen. 

But man alive, you can’t reconsider it. You prom- 

* Se< ^* Professor. 

It was optional with you whether you bought it 

or not. ~ 

Cullen. 

{Blustering.) 

Since I left here I have invested a large sum of 
money in this business, relying on our agreement. 
Professor. 

In that case there is nothing to do but give you 
the formula. 

Cullen. 

{Relieved.) 

I thought you’d see it that way. I’ll write you a 



82 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


check. (Takes checkbook from pocket as Professor 
takes formula in large envelope from his pocket.) 

Professor. 

Here it is— 

Vanderberg enters qmckly from bedroom , taking 
envelope from Professor. 

Vanderberg. 

Pardon me! 

(Cullen springs to his feet. He and Vanderberg 
face each other.) 

Cullen. 

So—you’re still at large. 

Vanderberg. 

{Quietly.) 

Yes; owing to the stupidity of the police, neither 
one of us is in jail. 

Professor. 

Mr. Cullen, this is Mr. Studebaker. 

Cullen. 

Studebaker, eh? Well, “Mr. Studebaker,” I’ll 
trouble you for that envelope. 

Vanderberg. 

Just a minute. Mr. Barrett, don’t sell this to 
Cullen. Let me handle it. I’ll guarantee to raise 
ten times that amount in a week’s time. 

Professor. 

I am sorry, but it was an arrangement between 
gentlemen, and I must keep my word. 

Vanderberg. 

“Gentlemen”! Do you know where he went when 
he left here? I’ll tell you. He went straight to a 
laboratory and had that sample analyzed. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


83 


That’s a lie! 


Cullen. 

Vanderberg. 

Is it! ( Seizes Cullen quickly and takes sample 
from Cullen’s coat pocket .) Is that the same one 
he borrowed? 

Professor. 

{Looks at it,) 

Vanderberg. 

See how it is discolored by acids and reagents. 

Professor. 

{To Cullen.) 

You did have this analyzed. That is proof posi¬ 
tive that you intended to cheat me. The deal is 

therefore off. ~ 

Cullen. 

Is it? Well, let me tell you something. I did take 
that to a chemist and he found out how it was made. 
If you want the thousand dollars you can have it, 
but I’ve got the secret anyway. 

Professor. \ 

Any prescription clerk can tell you what leather¬ 
ette is made of. It’s collodion. But there isn’t an 
analytical chemist alive who could discover the 
process. 

r Vanderberg. 

{Cheerfully.) 

You lose, Cullen. Cullen> 

{Angrily.) 

And I suppose “Mr. Studebaker” wins. “Stude- 
baker”! Say, do you know who this high-minded, 
moral young man is? He’s the man who stuck you 
for ten thousand dollars on fake mining stock. He’s 
the man the police are searching the country for. 
He’s Vanderberg! 



84 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg! 


Yes. 


Professor. 
Is this true? 

Vanderberg. 


Professor. 

(Joyfully.) 

My boy! My boy! I’ve found you at last! Your 

father was my dearest friend. (Grasping Vander- 

berg’s hand.) „ 

J CULLEN. 

Well, I’ll be hanged! {Laughs.) Very pretty, 
professor; very forgiving. But how are you going 
to get around the fact that he swindled you out of 
ten thousand dollars? 

Professor. 

There was no swindle, sir. 

Cullen. 

He got the money. You got the mining shares. 
Every man in the United States knew the Yucatan 
was a joke. 


You are wrong, 
know—he and I. 


Professor. 

There were two men who did not 


Good night! 


Cullen. 

{Disgusted.) 

Vanderberg. 

I’ll give you a fighting chance, Cullen. If I can’t 
dispose of leatherette for one hundred and fifty thou¬ 
sand dollars inside of six months, you can have the 
formula at the original cost. {To Professor.) Is 
that satisfactory? 

Professor. 

Perfectly. 

Cullen. 

I’ll take that bet. Good night. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


85 


(Cullen exits into hall , and Vanderberg goes 
quickly to bedroom door.) 

Vanderberg. 

Doc! Doc— 

Digby enters quickly , from bedroom. 

Digby. 

What’s up? 

Vanderberg. 

Cullen’s just gone. Follow him, and if he goes to a 
telephone run back and let me know. That will mean 
the police, and I’ve got to keep out of jail for six 
months. 

Digby. 

I get you. Be ready to beat it if you have to. 
(Exits hastily into hall , left.) 

Vanderberg. 

Now, Professor Barrett, I haven’t time to talk, 
but will you tell Miss Joyce I wish to see her at once? 
And don’t tell her I’m Vanderberg. 

Professor. 

Certainly. Anything you say. Your father was— 

Vanderberg. 

( Impatiently.) 

Yes, yes. I know. ( Hurries Professor off to 
kitchen. Takes sample of leatherette from portfolio 
and puts it in pocket as —) 

Joyce enters from kitchen with hat and coat on. 

Vanderberg. 

This is good-bye, Joyce. I’ve got to go. 

Joyce. 

Where? 

Vanderberg. 

Nowhere in particular. But your father has 



86 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


trusted me with his invention, and I have to make 
good. When I come back I’ll— 

Digby, excited, enters from hall, left . 

Digby. 

Hurry, Van! Cullen went into a drug store, and 
that means the police. 

Vanderberg. 

Just a minute. ~ 

Digby. 

Nothing doing. You’ve lost time already. 

Joyce. 

What is it? Please explain— 

Digby. 

(Dragging Vanderberg to hall door.) 

He hasn’t time. The police will be here in a 

minute— T 

Joyce. 

Why should he fear the police? Henry— 

Vanderberg. 

Good-bye— T 

J Joyce. 

If you leave this room without an explanation, 
you need never return. 

Vanderberg. 

That settles it, Doc. Let go my arm. (Digby 
groans and walks to window.) Joyce—I—meant 
to tell you before. {Pause.) I am Vanderberg— 

Joyce. 

Vanderberg! You! You the man who robbed my 
father— 

Digby. 

{Interrupts.) 

He’s Vanderberg, all right, but he didn’t intend to 
rob—■ 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


87 


Joyce. 

( Interrupts .) 

Don’t interfere, doctor—please. {To Vander- 
berg.) You are the man who defrauded my father 
and broke his heart, and I—I kissed you— 


Vanderberg. 

Joyce! , 

J Joyce. 

You killed that old man’s ambition, and as it lay 
dead, you came sneaking around like a cowardly 
jackal to pick its bones and gloat over your work! 
Disguised as an honest working man and under an 
assumed name you won my love. And I, blinded by 
that love, could not see the beast under its coat of 
fleece. But my eyes are open, now. And you have 
wheedled my father out of the secret formula. Now 
go, and may you live your life in poverty more 
wretched than ours. Go! Go! ( Sobbing , sinks in 
chair.) 

' Digby. 

{Who has been watching through window.) 

“Go?” He can’t. It’s too late now. The police. 


{Police whistle is heard , first off right, then off left.) 

Vanderberg. 

It’s just as well. A man’s life isn’t measured by 
a span of years, but by the sum of his emotions. In 
two short hours to-night, I have loved and lost. 
Nothing matters now. 

Millie enters from kitchen , right . 

Millie. 

{As she comes in.) 

There’s a policeman on the back stairs. What 
does it mean, Egbert? 



88 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


{Knock at hall door; Millie opens it and —) 
Clancy, a policeman , enters , left. 

Millie. 

What do you want? 

Clancy. 

I have a warrant for the arrest of Edward Van- 
dertjcrg. Millie. 

No such person here. 

Clancy. 

We’ll see. Who are you? {To Digby.) 

Digby. 

Dr. Egbert Digby; intern at the Maternity Hos¬ 
pital. And I assure you there is no one by the 
name of Vanderberg here. 

Vanderberg. 

Thanks, Doc, old chap, but it’s no use. Officer, 
I am Edward Vanderberg. 

(Joyce rises.) • 

Clancy. 

I thought so. Edward Vanderberg, I arrest you 
in the name of the Commonwealth of New Jersey, 
and I warn you that anything you say may be used 
in evidence against you. 

(Joyce, horror stricken , hacks up center .) 

Digby. 

What is the charge against him? 

Clancy. 

Sending fraudulent matter through the United 
States mail. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


89 


Joyce. 

(Suddenly pounds on bedroom door.) 

Vanderberg! Vanderberg! Wake up! ( Calling 
through door.) The police are after you! Get out 
the window and down the fire escape— 

Clancy. 

(To Vanderberg.) 

Hell’s fire! So you’re not Vanderberg. He’s in 
there! (Runs up to door.) Out of my way! 

Joyce. 

(To Clancy, hysterically.) 

No! You shan’t go in there! You shan’t arrest 
him! 

Clancy. 

Out of my way! (Pushes her aside and exits into 
bedroom.) 

Joyce. 

(Closing door after Clancy and locking it; to 

Vanderberg.) 

I’ve given you a chance. Run. 

Vanderberg. 

No. T 

Joyce. 

You must, please. I don’t care who you are. I 
don’t care what you’ve done. I only know I love 
you. (Knocking heard on bedroom door.) Hurry! 
He will break down the door. 

Vanderberg. 

You forgive me—? 

Joyce. 

{Eagerly.) 

Yes. (More knocking and forcing on door is 
heard.) Yes. 



90 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Millie. 

{Getting Vanderberg’s cap or hat.) 

Hurry! , r 

J Vanderberg. 

Will you come to me if I win free? 

Joyce. 

Vanderberg. 

{Kissing Joyce.) 

Good-bye. Good-bye, Doc. Good-bye. {Taking 
hat from Millie, crosses left.) When I come back! 
{Exits into hall , left.) 

Agnes enters from kitchen. 


Agnes. 

There are a hundred policemen coming up the back 

stairs. ~ 

Clancy. 

{Breaking open door.) 

Come on, Vanderberg. 


Clancy enters from bedroom , dragging in Bill 
the Butch, still in Santa Claus make-up. He is 
handcuffed to Clancy. Clancy turns to Joyce. 


Clancy. 

That was a pretty trick you tried to play on me. 
That smooth young feller nearly had me thinking 
he was Vanderberg, and all the time the real Vander¬ 
berg was in there. And he nearly got away. I 
caught him on the fire escape. 

Bill. 

{Pleading with Clancy.) 

Aw, listen, youse has got me wrong. I ain’t Van¬ 
derberg. Ask dese ladies and gents. 




NEVER TOUCHED ME 


91 


Digby. 

He is right, officer. He is not Vanderberg. 
Joyce. 

I give you my word he is not Vanderberg. 

Bill. 

What did I tell you? 

Clancy. 

It don’t go. You worked that game once. I’ve 
got the man I’m after. Come on, Vanderberg* 
(Dragging Bill to door.) 

Bill. 


Aw, hell! 


Curtain. 




























































































NEVER TOUCHED ME 


The Third Act. 

Scene: Same as the Second Act , except that the 
light is out. The only Ught in the room comes 
through the hay window from the street light , mak¬ 
ing a sort of greenish twilight in the room. This 
lightens and darkens at regular intervals , presumably 
caused by the working of an electric sign across the 
street . 

Auto horn off left. Effect for bottle explosion , 
back of pantry door. Police patrol gong off left. 

At Rise : Joyce is discovered kneeling at the bay 
window , listening to Tosti’s “Good-bye ” as sung by 
a man at the theatre across the way. 

Joyce. 

(Rising and repeating the lines of the song.) 

“All the to-morrows will be as to-day.” (Putting 
her handkerchief to her eyes.) 

Bedroom door opens and Millie stands there in 
a bright-colored kimono . Light floods in from be- 

Millie. 

Joyce. 

Millie. 

(Advancing in room.) 

Why are you here in the dark? * 

Joyce. 

I was listening to the singing. 

93 


hind her . 

Joyce! 
Yes. 



94 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Millie. 

You’ve been crying. 

Joyce. 

I have not. 

Millie. 

Were you crying about him? 

Joyce. 

Him! Of course not. 

Millie. 

I don’t think you use much spirit, Joyce, worry¬ 
ing over a man who stays away for six months and 
never writes to let you know if he’s dead or alive, 
or in jail, or anything. {Pause.) It’s a hard win¬ 
ter when the hay runs after the horse. 

Joyce. 

{Spiritedly.) 

I wasn’t crying about him, I tell you! And maybe 
he is afraid to write for fear the police might trace 
him through his letters. I’ve other things to cry 
about. Besides, I wasn’t crying, anyway. ( Walk¬ 
ing to window again; looks out.) Millie! Come 
here, quick! (Millie hastens to window.) Do you 

see that man? ,, 

Millie. 

Which one? The one in front of the drug store? 

J OYCE. 

No; in the alley—next to the theatre. Wait till 
the sign lights up—now. 

Millie. 

The man with the green patch. 

Joyce. 

He’s been there every night this week. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


95 


Millie. 

Pull down the blind. Why, I thought he was in 
jail. Let’s bolt the door. 

Joyce. 

No. 

Millie. 

Why not? T 

Joyce. 

I’ll tell you some other time. 

Millie. 

He gives me the creeps. Let’s have some light. 
{Switches on light , and sees table set for one , with 
fish on platter.) What’s this? 

Joyce. 

( Confused.) 

I—I thought I’d set the table for breakfast. 

Millie. 

One plate, one knife, one fork for three—and 
fish. And you know / never eat fish. {Significantly.) 
That story won’t do, Joyce. 

Joyce. 

{Confused.) 

It’s for Van—in case he should come back. Oh, 
Millie, I can’t bear to think of his being hunted 
from place to place, hiding, hungry—perhaps starv¬ 
ing. So every night since he left I have put food 
here in case he might come back—hungry. 

Millie. 

And that is why you won’t lock the door. 

Joyce. 

Yes. I can’t help it, Millie. Maybe he has for¬ 
gotten me, but I love him—I love him—and he was 
so fond of fish. {Sobbing on Millie’s shoulder.) 



96 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Millie. 

(Consoling her.) 

Never mind, honey—don’t cry. No man’s worth 
crying about. 

Joyce. 

It isn’t that; it’s everything. The cooking, the 
washing, the scrubbing—and we haven’t any money 
—and the rent, the gas, the water—and now father’s 
got another invention. 

Millie. 

We all have our troubles. 

Joyce. 

It hasn’t been so bad since you came to live with 
us. You’ve been company. But now you’re going 
to get married, I don’t know what I’ll do. 

Millie. 

Oh, don’t worry about that. ( Sound of explo¬ 
sion off stage, hack of pantry.) What’s that? 

Joyce. 

{With a little laugh.) 

It’s only a ketchup bottle popping. There’s too 
much gas in the ketchup. Mrs. Brown told me to put 
in some soda to give it life, and I didn’t remember if 
she said a teacup full or a teaspoon full, so I put in 
a teacup full, and it seems all wrong. They’ve been 
banging all day like minute guns on a shipwrecked 
vessel. 

(Electric piano is heard off stage, left.) 

Millie. 

Did you notice they have a new tune on at the 
Bijou Dream? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


97 


Joyce. 

(Turning off lights.) 

Yes, and I’m glad of it. For the last six months 
every time I would burn the steak, or drop a plate, or 
scald my hand, that old piano would play the same 
everlasting tune. 

(Joyce and Millie exeunt into kitchen.) 

After a slight pause , the hall door , left , is gently 
opened , and a spot from dark lantern plays rapidly 
over right wall. It is Bill, entering from hall. He 
shuts off lantern , and he stands so his profile is out - 
lined against lighted doorway of the bedroom. He 
then comes rapidly to bay window , raises blind slight¬ 
ly , looks out , lowers it , runs across to kitchen door , 
then turns and hastily opens pantry door and exits . 
Clancy knocks at hall door , then slowly opens door 
and enters just as Joyce enters from kitchen. 

Clancy. 

Don’t be alarmed, ma’am. It’s only me. 

Joyce. 

And who are you? 

Clancy. 

I’m Officer Clancy. You remember me. I had the 
distinction of arresting Bill the Butch in this same 
house, some six months ago. 

Joyce. 

What do you want now? 

Clancy. 

I’m after the same lad. He’s broke jail, and 
there’s six hundred dollars reward offered for him. 

Joyce. 

But why do you come here? 



98 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Clancy. 

It’s this way, ma’am. I spots me brave Bill acrost 
the way in the alley. I sneaks up behind and pinches 
him. “Will you come quietly?” says I. “Sure,” 
says he, hitting’ me a poke in the eye. Then he takes 
leg-bail acrost the street, and I’m pretty sure he 
ducks up your stairway. 

Joyce. 

He didn’t come in here. 

Clancy. 

Maybe not. But ’twill do no harm to have a look 
around. ( Goes to bedroom door, looks in, and is 
about to try the pantry door when a slight noise is 
heard off left.) Ah! Better go, ma’am. Quick— 
shut the door and stay there. 

(Joyce quickly exits into kitchen. The stage is 
now lighted only by light from bedroom door.) 

The hall door opens, someone enters, knocks over a 
chair, and makes a smothered exclamation. 

Clancy. 

A-ha, me bucko! I have you now! ( Struggle.) 
Let’s have a little light on the subject. (Clancy 
switches on light. He is holding Vanderberg by 
the collar. Both are panting from the struggle.) 

Vanderberg. 

(Rubbing his eye as if he has been hit.) 

It’s a gay life, isn’t it? 

Clancy. 

Why—why, you’re not the man who hit me in the 
Vanderberg. 

No; I’m the man who got hit in the eye. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


99 


Clancy. 

What were you snooping around here for? 
Vanderberg. 

My dear sir, I live here. This is my house. 
Clancy. 

Are you married? 

Vanderberg. 

Of course. Got six children; four boys and two 

twins. ~ 

Clancy. 

The young lady in yonder would be your wife, 

likely. Vanderberg. 

{Laughing.) 

Perhaps. ~ 

r Clancy. 

By gorry, I know you now! You’re the young 

buck who pretended to be Vanderberg the night I 

arrested Bill the Butch. 

Vanderberg. 

That’s me. ~ 

Clancy. 

For two pins I’d pinch you for interfering with an 
officer in discharge of his duty. 

Joyce enters from kitchen. She shows joy , then un¬ 
certainty. 

Clancy. 

Ma’am, is this man your husband? 

Joyce. 

(After a pause.) 

If he isn’t my husband, then I haven’t any hus¬ 
band. ~ 

Clancy. 

That’s all right, then. No offense. Just wanted 
to be sure. 



100 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

Quite right, officer. Do you ever take a little 

drink ? ~ 

Clancy. 

Well, not to excess. But I don’t mind a small nip. 
Vanderberg. 

Wife* give the officer a glass of raspberry vinegar. 
Clancy. 

Raspberry vinegar. Good-night! ( Exits into 

Vanderberg. 

(Going toward her.) 

Joyce! T 

J Joyce. 

Why did you tell that man that we were married? 
Vanderberg. 

I had to tell him something to account for my be¬ 
ing here. T 

° Joyce. 

Why did you come back? 

Vanderberg. 

I just had to see you once more before I left the 

country. T 

J Joyce. 

(Sinking on chair right of table.) 

Left the country? You are going away—for 

good? , r 

Vanderberg. 

Yes; this is good-bye. I am going to Brazil. I’ve 
shipped as a stoker on the Casa Blanca, and she sails 
in the morning. j 0YCE . 

( Agitated , rising.) 

I’ll have to call Doctor Digby. He ’phones over 
every day to know if you’ve come back. He says he 
must see you—something important. ( Going to 
'phone.) 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


101 


Vanderberg. 


Good old Doc! 


Joyce. 

(At 'phone.) 

1462 Union Hill. * * Yes, please. * * Hello, is this 

Doctor Digby? * * Joyce Barrett speaking. Mr. 

Vanderberg is here. * * All right. I’ll keep him. 

(Hanging up receiver , comes center.) He is coming 

right over. (Sits right of table; still agitated and 

nervous.) Well, what have you been doing for the 

last six months? Tr 

Vanderberg. 

Hiding, dodging, looking for cops—looking for 

work. T 

Joyce. 

Bill the Butch has escaped. 

Vanderberg. 

Bill—broke i ail! T 

J Joyce. 

Yes. He’s been hanging around here for a week. 
I saw him to-night. 

Vanderberg. 

(After brief pause.) 

What date is this? 

Joyce. 

Twenty-second of June. 

Vanderberg. 

(Nervously.) 

Let’s turn out the light. 

Joyce. 

Vanderberg. 

Bill has a habit of shooting through windows. 
(Joyce turns out the light. Vanderberg raises win¬ 
dow shade. The stage is again in greenish twilight , 



102 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


brightened intermittently by glow of electric sign 
presumably across the street.) I’ve a feeling that 
Bill is not very far away right now. 

Joyce. 

Why did you never write, Van? 

Vanderberg. 

I didn’t think you cared. 

Joyce. 

(After a pause.) 

And father’s invention—leatherette. Did you do 
anything with it? 

Vanderberg. 

Wait, Joyce. I can demonstrate better than I can 
tell you. (Takes sample from pocket.) This is 
leatherette. ( Strikes match to it. It flames up.) 

Joyce. 

It is inflammable ! 

Vanderberg. 

( Frankly.) 

As tinder; as explosive as gunpowder. It is com¬ 
mercially impossible. It is even dangerous. 

Joyce. 

Poor father! He must never know. It would break 

his heart. , r 

Vanderberg. 

Yes. It would break his heart. 

Joyce. 

Oh, Van, I’m worried to distraction about him. He 
is getting weaker and more erratic every day. I— 
I believe he is losing his mind. ( Voice off left is heard 
singing Tosti's “ Good-bye ” again.) Oh, that song 
—that song. “All the to-morrows will be as to-day.” 
(Turns to Vanderberg.) Oh, Van, I’m so lonely 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


103 


and miserable. Take me with you! ( He takes her in 
his arms, hat does not kiss her.) 

Vanderberg. 

You will have to wait, dear heart. 

Joyce. 

“Wait!” I have waited. I have waited an eter¬ 
nity. You said you loved me. If you mean it, why 
can’t I go with you? 

Vanderberg. 

It is because I do love you that I refuse to make 
, you the wife of a hunted criminal. 

Joyce. 

Are we to be the only two miserable persons in a 

world of joy? , r 

J Vanderberg. 

Be reasonable, Joyce. How can I take you with 
me when I am being hunted from pillar to post? 

Joyce. 

Millie is going to be married and she is so happy. 
Are we to always stand in the cold and look in on 
other people’s happiness—like hungry children at a 
bakeshop window? 

Vanderberg. 

There is one other thing you are forgetting, dear. 
Joyce. 

What is it? 

Professor Barrett enters from kitchen, dressed 
for street , carrying document. Vanderberg simply 
points to Professor in answer. The Professor’s 
mind is so affected that he does not notice Vander- 

BERG * Joyce. 

Father! Daddy, where are you going? 



104 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Professor. 

Just out on a little business, my dear—a little busi¬ 
ness. I won’t be long, dearie. I want to raise some 
money on these shares. 

Joyce. 

Shares? What are they? 


Professor. 

They are my Yucatan gold mine stock. It’s very 

valuable. T 

Joyce. 

Oh, daddy, you are breaking my heart! 

Professor. 

{Petting her.) 

There, there, now, Joyce; don’t cry. It’s all right. 

I’ll get some money to tide us over, and by that time 

young Vanderberg will have sold my invention and 

we’ll be rich. You know I place a world of confidence 

in that young man. T 

J Joyce. 

Don’t go, father. Stay here with me. 


Professor. 

Well; for a little while, dearie. But I must get 
back to work soon on my new invention. You know 
—fourth dimension—very intricate. I don’t seem to 
be as good at mathematics as I used to be. My head 
keeps going round and round. {Sits at table , with 
air of bewilderment.) 


Vanderberg. 
{To Joyce.) 
I can’t stand this. I’m going. 


Joyce. 

Where? T . 

Vanderberg. 

I’m going to make good that ten thousand dollars 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


105 


I stole. I’m going to find Bill. He and I have a 
scheme for raising just that amount—ten thousand 
dollars. ( Crosses to hall door , as —) 

Millie enters from kitchen. 


Millie. 

Joyce Barrett, what on earth is keeping you? 
Have you been crying again? I’d like to get that 
young Vanderberg by the neck. I’d shake some sense 
in him. Sitting here in the dark crying over a man 
who—( Sxvitches on lights.) Why—why—How do? 


Vanderberg. 

( Smiling.) 

How do you do. You’re just in time to say good- 

b ? e ' Millie. 

Why, you’ve just come. 

Vanderberg. 

Yes, and I’m just going. 

Millie. 

(Going to the table.) 

You are forgetting your papers. ( Having uncon¬ 
sciously taken documents and looked at them.) 

Vanderberg. 

They aren’t mine. They belong to Professor Bar- 

re ^* Millie. 

But they have your name on them. 

Vanderberg. 

Yes, but they don’t belong to me. Those are the 
celebrated Yucatan Gold Mine shares. 


Millie. 

Gold mine? This isn’t a gold mine—it’s rubber. 



106 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 
(All interest.) 


A rubber mine! Millie 

Who ever heard of a rubber mine ? A rubber plan¬ 
tation. T 

J OYCE. 

{Taking certificates.) 

Let me see! Van, these documents are deeds to a 
rubber plantation— {after another look) —thousands 
of acres in Central America. 


Vanderberg. 

The Central American property ! Ye gods ! {Sink¬ 
ing in morris chair.) T 
° Joyce. 

What does it mean, Van? 


Vanderberg. 

{Bewildered.) 

Just a moment. Let me get this straight. Haven’t 
those papers got Yucatan printed on them? {Cross- 
ing to table.) Millie . 

Yes, that’s where the property is located. In 
Yucatan; Central American republic. 


Vanderberg. 

Good Lord! , , 

Millie. 

Did you think Yucatan was a gold mine? 


Vanderberg. 

For a while I thought it was chewing gum. That 
property is worth fifty thousand dollars. I inherited 
it from my father. Joyce, ask your father where he 
got those deeds—to make sure. 


Joyce. 

Father, where did you get these papers? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


107 


Professor. 

( Absent-mindedly .) 

Eh? Oh—papers—the Yucatan gold mining 
stocks. I got them from Mr. Vanderberg. I paid 
ten thousand dollars for them. They’re very valu¬ 
able. 

VANDERBERG. 

Do you know what I’m going to do? I’m going 
out for a walk, and every time I see a policeman I’m 
going to walk right up to him and ask him the time. 
XPause; excited.) If this was the twenty-fourth of 
June instead of the twenty-second, I’d be the hap^ 
piest man alive. 

Millie. 

How on earth did you mistake those deeds for min¬ 
ing shares? ,, 

Vanderberg. 

I don’t know. The word “Yucatan,” I suppose. 
And I was a trifle excited at the time I got Professor 
Barrett’s letter. I was losing about a thousand dol¬ 
lars a minute. 

Joyce. 

But we can’t accept this valuable property for— 

Vanderberg. 

( Interrupting .) 

You just bet you can accept it. If you think I am 
going to live all my life two jumps ahead of a cop, 
you’re mistaken. 

Joyce. 

Father, where have you kept those papers all this 

time ? -p. 

Professor. 

That’s a secret. A man told me if I would give 
him those papers he would have Vanderberg put in 
j ail, so I hid them—hid them where no one would find 
them—not even you, Joyce. 




108 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Joyce. 

Where did you hide them? 

Professor. 

In the family Bible. . 

Vanderberg. 

{To Joyce.) 

See? If you had attended to your religious duties 
I wouldn’t have spent six months changing my ad¬ 
dress. T 

Joyce. 

( Thrilled.) 

Daddy, do you understand all this? We’re rich! 

Professor. 

{Placidly.) 

Rich? Of course, we’re rich. {Rises.) We have 
always been well to do. {Crossing to Vanderberg.) 
Mr.—er—er—Vanderberg, I have something of im¬ 
portance to ask you. Let me see; what was it? Oh, 
yes; can you tell me cube root of 126,584,262 point 
180,426, repeating decimal? 

Vanderberg. 

I cannot. But I’ll bet it’s something awful. 

Professor. 

No? Well, never mind. I’ll get it. But my head 
is not what it was. {Crosses right. A knock is heard 
on hall door. Vanderberg runs to pantry door , 
hand on knob, but does not open it.) 

Joyce. 

Where are you going? 

Vanderberg. 

It might be a cop. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


109 


Joyce. 

You have no reason to fear the police now. 
Vanderberg. 

That’s so. I’m so used to side-stepping it’s got to 
be a habit. 


Joyce opens hall door. Cullen enters. 
Vanderberg. 

Ah! Honest John Cullen. 

Cullen. 

{Insolently.) 

Still at large, I see, Vanderberg. I’d like to speak 
to Professor Barrett alone. 

Vanderberg. 

If it is business, you can talk to me. 

Professor. 

Yes, yes. Mr. Vanderberg attends to all my busi¬ 
ness. He is my partner, and is soon to become my 
son-in-law. ( Exits into kitchen.) 

(Joyce and Vanderberg look at each other.) 
Joyce. 

However did he find that out! 


Vanderberg. 

And you said he was losing his mind. 

a fox! ~ 

Cullen. 

Vanderberg, the six months are up. 
done anything with that patent right? 

Vanderberg. 

No, I have not. ~ 

Cullen. 

Then the formula belongs to me. 


He is—like 
Have you 



110 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

(Taking envelope from pocket.) 
Have you the money? No checks go. 


CuLLEN. 

I’ve got the cash. (Taking long wallet from 
pocket and starting to count out the money.) 

(Auto horn is heard blowing rapidly , off left.) 


Millie. 

That’s Egbert. ,, 

° Vanderberg. 

Yes, and he’ll be pinched for speeding. 


Cullen. 

Here’s your money. Ten hundred-dollar bills. 


Vanderberg. 

(Impetuously.) 

I can’t do it, John. I’m too honest to be a business 
man. This leatherette is no good. It’s a fizzle. 


Cullen. 

(Blustering.) 

None of that, Vanderberg. I want that formula. 
Come now, or I’ll sue Barrett. 


Digby enters quickly from hall. He does not see 
Vanderberg, who stands near hall door , almost back 
of him. 

Digby. 

’Lo, Cullen. Where’s Vanderberg? You didn’t 
let him get away, did you? (Joyce points to Van¬ 
derberg,* Digby turns and sees him.) Ah, there you 
are! I’ve found you at last! 


(Digby, excited , throws hand to hip pocket , and 
draws out a gun that is fitted up with spot light like 
one in Second Act but is much more compact. Van¬ 
derberg dodges behind morris chair. Joyce, think- 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


111 


ing Digby means to shoot Vanderberg, throws her¬ 
self on Digby and struggles to take gun from him.) 

J OYCE. 

No, no! You shall not—you shall not. ( She 
throws up his hand holding the gun. In the struggle 
for gun she grabs his collar , which comes loose and 
sticks out on the side.) 

Digby. 

(Gasps.) 

What’s the matter? 

Millie. 

(Throws arms around Digby, crushing his derby hat 
over his ears , and pulling off his necktie.) 

Egbert, dear—for my sake—don’t! No matter 
how much he deserves it—don’t! 

Digby. 

I’ll be good! (Breaking away from them , leaving 

gun with Joyce.) , r 

J Millie. 

Oh, Egbert, what’s the matter with you? 

Digby. 

(Peeved.) 

Matter with me? Nothing. My hat’s broken— 
my collar torn—my necktie gone—my shirt ripped— 
and my suspenders busted—but personally I never 
felt better. How are you? 

Joyce. 

Doctor Digby-, what is the meaning of this? (He 
turns quickly toward her.) Stand back! (Levels 
gun at him.) Digby 

(Mournfully.) 

This is a great world. One minute ago I was full 
of joy. I came bursting in here to tell the glad 




112 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


tidings, and somebody tears my shirt. (Vanderberg 
carefully sticks head from behind morris chair.) Why 
are you hiding behind that chair, you idiot? 


Vanderberg. 

(Ducking behind it again.) 

Who’s hiding behind a chair? I’m not hiding. I 
don’t see where you get the idea I am hiding behind 
a chair. ( Slowly , carefully comes out.) 


Digby. 

I can’t bear malice on this glorious occasion. I 
forgive you. I forgive you all. Shake, Van, my boy. 
(Grabs Vanderberg’s hand.) 


Vanderberg. 

( Watching him closely , suspiciously .) 

How are you? 

Digby. 

(Continuing to shake hand; excited , happy.) 
Fine. Fine! Never better. No more poverty for 
you, my boy. No more bags of salt. You are no 
longer the hunted criminal, Vanderberg. You are 
Vanderberg, the king! Ha—ha! Vanderberg, “the 
spot shot king.” , r 

VANDERBERG. 

(As if humoring a lunatic.) 

Yes—yes. Of course. As you say, I’m the king. 

How are you? ^ 

J Digby. 

(Still shaking Vanderberg’s hand.) 

And rich— rich —richer than Midas—countless 

millions! , r 

VANDERBERG. 

I understand. Millions. Can’t count ’em. How 

are you? ^ 

J Digby. 

This is a great day—a great day— 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


113 


Vanderberg. 

{Humoring him .) 

Some day all right. (Releasing hand.) Say, 
don’t you think you had better go in and lie down? 
You’ve been over-working. We’ll put some cracked 

ice on your head— 

J Digby. 


Don’t be a fool! 

Cullen. 

Better listen to him, Vanderberg. He may not be 
as crazy as he sounds. 


Digby. 

{Up in the air.) 

“Crazy!” Say. {To Vanderberg.) Do you 
think I’m crazy? 

VANDERBERG. 

{Pleasantly.) 

No, no. Why should I? You come rushing in 
here, grab out a gun and come at me pop-eyed. Why 
should L think you were crazy? You gabble about 
millions of dollars—and you call me a “job lot king.” 


Digby. 

{Exasperated.) 

“Spot shot”—“spot shot.” Good heavens, haven’t 
you heard about the spot shot? It’s in all the pa¬ 
pers ! • It’s a wonderful gun—the government has 
adopted it for the army. 


Millie. 

I know. It shoots at night—or something like 
that. 

VANDERBERG. 

Well, what has this night-shooting gun got to do 
with me? 

Digby. 

You? Why, you are the inventor. 



114 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 


Not me! 


Digby. 

Here, Joyce, give me that gun. 


(Takes gun.) 


Vanderberg. 

(Behind chair again.) 

Ah, now, don’t get sore, Doc. I’ll be “it” rather 
than start anything. 

Digby. 

{Showing Vanderberg the gun.) 

Do you recognize that? 


Vanderberg. 

Why—it looks something like that fool thing I 
rigged up last winter. 

Digby. 

“Fool thing!” It’s a few-million-dollar “fool 
thing.” See. {Reads.) Patented January seventh. 
Patented February second. Patented March seven¬ 
teenth. Patented April tenth. Trade mark regis¬ 
tered—foreign patents applied for— 

Vanderberg. 

{Taking gun.) 

Dramatic rights reserved. Who patented this? 


Digby. 

{Pointing fingers at chest , proudly.) 

1 dld ’ Vanderberg. 

{Pointing finger at Digby.) 

You did? 

Digby. 

{Pointing finger at Vanderberg.) 
In your name. 

Vanderberg. 

{Pointing fingers at chest.) 

In my name? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


115 


Dig by. 

Yes, and there are hundreds of thousands of dol¬ 
lars royalty pouring in right now. ( Reaching into 
pocket .) , r . 

VANDERBERG. 

(Weakly.) 

Don’t kid me, Doc. I couldn’t stand it. I haven’t 
had anything to eat since last night. 

Digby. 

(Hands bank book to Vanderberg.) 

There’s your bank book to prove it. 

Vanderberg. 

(Looking at bank book.) 

Doc— (Shakes hands; then , suddenly.) Doc, do 
you remember the three things I swore I’d do? 

Digby. 

(Counting off on fingers.) 

Yes. First pay off Professor Barrett the ten thou¬ 
sand dollars. Tr 

VANDERBERG. 

(Checking off on fingers.) 

That’s done. 

Digby. 

(Counting on finger.) 

Second. Marry a certain person. 

Vanderberg. 

(Checking on finger.) 

That’s arranged. 

Digby. 

(Third finger.) 

Third. Get square with another certain person. 
Vanderberg. 


Watch me. 




116 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Cullen. 

Let’s cut out this love feast and get down to busi¬ 
ness. I want that formula. 


You insist? 
I do. 


Vanderberg. 

Cullen. 


Vanderberg. 

John, on this happy occasion I can refuse you 
nothing. Give me the money. (Cullen counts out 
the money again.) One thousand dollars. Here you 
are. ( Giving Cullen the envelope.) 

Cullen. 

Give me the samples, too. 


Vanderberg. 

(Takes sample from pocket.) 

This is all there is left of leatherette. Good-bye, 
John. 

Cullen. 

(Taking a cigar from his pocket.) 

Good-bye. , r 

Vanderberg. 

Just a minute. Here’s a light for your cigar. 
(Strikes match and holds it for Cullen’s cigar.) 
In parting, I would like to call your attention to the 
fact that I started my career working on the docks 
just as you did, and now—I’m a millionaire. You 
can’t keep a good man down, John. 


Cullen. 

( Scornfully .) 

Fool luck! You have no business ability or you 
wouldn’t have sold the rights to leatherette for a 
measly thousand dollars. ( During above speech 
Vanderberg has held the lighted match to the sample 
of leatherette which Cullen has in his hand. It 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


117 


blazes up. Cullen throws sample on floor.) Hell’s 
fire. It bums! 

(A sharp report is heard in the pantry , followed by 
a loud crash of glass. The women scream .) 

Bill enters , staggering , from pantry , holding the 
back of his neck with both hands. 

Bill. 

I’m shot! I’m dyin’! Send for a doctor! I’m 
bleedin’ to death! 

Vanderberg. 

Bill the Butch! ^ 

JJIGBY. 

Steady, man. I’m a doctor. Here, Van, get a 
chair. ( They put Bill in chair. Bill is groaning.) 
Now then, where is the wound? 

Bill. 

In me neck. In de back of me neck. 

Digby. 

In the region of the medulla oblongata. 

Bill. 

( Terrified.) 

Oh, Gawd, Doc, don’t say dat! Can’t you do 
nothin’? Me life’s blood is oozin’ down me neck. 

Digby. 

(Examining Bill’s neck.) 

“Blood,” nothing. It’s ketchup ! 

Joyce and Millie. 

{Together.) <* 

Ketcliiip! Bil1 . 

{Reviving.) 

An’ I ain’t been shot? 



118 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


No. 


Digby. 

Bill. 

( Bewildered .) 

But I heard a gun, right in me ear. 

Joyce. 

It was one of my ketchup bottles popping. They’re 
full of gas. (Opens pantry door and looks in.) Oh, 
he has smashed all my preserve bottles. 

Bill. 

Ketchup! ,, 

VANDERBERG. 

Exit Bill the Butch, shot in the neck by a bottle 
of ketchup. A fine finish for a tragedy. 

Joyce. 

What were you doing in my pantry? 

Bill. 

Lookin’ fer a friend. 


Vanderberg. 

I know the friend he was looking for. Bill, you 
are not working for me any longer. 

Bill. 

( Pleading .) 

Aw, say—gimme another chance. I’ll finish de job 
before de night’s over. Honest. 

Vanderberg. 

No, Bill, you are discharged—with a loud report. 
I’ve destroyed that will, and if I die before I’m a. 
hundred and six they’ll hang you for murder in the 

’ first de S ree - Bill. 

( Despondently .) 

Dat’s just my luck. Well, I guess I might as well 
stroll along. 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


119 


Cullen. 

(Comes forward.) 

Just a minute. Are you Bill the Butch? 

Bill. 

Maybe I am, an’ maybe I ain’t. What’s it to you? 

Cullen. 

I’ll take a chance. Keep that gun on him, Vander- 
berg. There is a reward of six hundred dollars for 
his capture. That six hundred will come in handy. 

Vanderberg. 

( Disgusted .) 

You don’t overlook any bets, -do you, Cullen? 

Bill. 

( Whimpering .) 

My Gawd, gents, you ain’t goin’ to hand me over 
to de bulls? I can’t go up de river again. I put in 
six months dere and it liked to killed me. ( To 
Joyce.) Don’t let ’em do it, miss. I’m an innocent 
man. I never done nothin’. I’m persecuted. I’m a 
honest, hard-workin’ man, and all I want is a chance. 
Don’t let them send me back to that awful prison! 


Cullen. 

( Coldly .) 

No use, Bill. Keep him covered, Vanderberg, while 
I call up the police station. ( Going toward 'phone.) 


Joyce. 

( With spirit.) 

Not on this ’phone. You can’t use my ’phone to 
earn your blood money. 


Cullen. 

Well, there’s a ’phone in the corner drug store. 
{Crosses to hall door , then turns.) And in order 



120 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


to prevent any misunderstanding, Vanderberg, let 
me remind you that it’s a criminal offense to assist 
an escaping prisoner. (Exits into hall.) 

Joyce. 

(Pulling Bill’s arm.) 

Hurry! Hurry the back way. 

Vanderberg. 

(Sharply.) 

Hold on, Bill. JoycE 

Van! You don’t mean you are going to prevent 
this poor man’s escape? lie’s innocent—he says so. 

Vanderberg. 

I know. So am I innocent, but they’ll probably 
send me up the river if I let him get away. I’ve 
been dodging cops for over a year, and I’ve had 
enough. Millie. 

Don’t send him to prison. Think of his poor wife. 
(To Bill.) You have a poor wife, haven’t you? 

Bill. 

Yes ma’am; a dang poor wife. 

Digby. 

I have an idea. 

Vanderberg. 

No, Doc. No foolishness. 

Digby. 

Wait till you hear it. 

Vanderberg. 

I know I’m not going to like it. 

Digby. 

We will wait until Cullen gets back, and then 
5 yhen Bill escapes, Cullen will be implicated, too. See? 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


121 


Vanderberg. 

No, I don’t. _ 

Digby. 

Well, when Cullen is in the room, Bill at a pre¬ 
arranged signal will grab the gun from you, then 
knock you down and— 

Vanderberg. 

I told you I wasn’t going to like it. 

Digby. 

Wait. He only pretends to hit you. You fall 
of your own accord. 

Vanderberg. 

(Turning to Bill.) 

You get that “only pretend,” Bill? 

(Bill nods.) 


Digby. 

Then he runs out of the door. Cullen will aC- 
why we didn’t stop him, and we’ll say, “Why didi.’l 
you stop him?” 

Joyce. 

Splendid! Millie. 

Just like a book. 

Vanderberg. 

Well, we can try it. I hope you appreciate this. 
Bill, and that you will try to lead a better life. What 
were you sent up for? 

Bill. 

Not’in’ at all. 

Vanderberg. 

What were you sent up for? 

Bill. 

{Sullenly.) 

Burnin’ down a house. 



122 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Vanderberg. 

Arson. One of the most wicked and dangerous 
as well as foolish crimes in the calendar. You ought 
to be ashamed of yourself. Why did you do it? 


Bile. 

To defraud de insurance company. 

Vanderberg. 

( Embarrassed , rubs his nose. Pauses , then takes 
money from wallet.) 

Here’s a thousand dollars, Bill. That ought to 
enable you to get into some business. 


T’anks. 


Bill. 

{Putting money in pocket.) 

Vanderberg. 

{Hears footsteps off left.) 

Here comes Cullen. On your toes, everybody. ( To 
Bill.) When I say “beat it”—beat it. 

Cullen enters from 'hall. 


Cullen. 

I see our friend is still here. The patrol will be 
here in a minute. Of course, Vanderberg, I’m en¬ 
titled to the full reward, but to show my heart is 
in the right place I’ll split it with you. 

Vanderberg. 

Keep your dirty blood money. I wouldn’t touch 
a penny of it if I was starving. What do you think 
of that, Doc? (Bill gives a hoarse , inarticulate cry 
and seizes gun with left hand.) No, no, Bill. That’s 
not your cue. 

(Vanderberg clings to gun , but Bill whirls in 
front of him and strikes down on Vanderberg’s head. 
Vanderberg falls in a heap. Women run to him 
with a cry. Bill starts for door , Cullen after him.) 



NEVER TOUCHED ME 


123 


Cullen. 

Stop him! Stop him! 

(Bill turns and gives Cullen a blow on the nose 
that sends him reeling back across room , then shoves 
Digby aside when latter approaches him and exits 

into hall.) ^ 

Digby. 

(Helping Cullen to his feet.) 

Did he hurt you, Cullen? 

Cullen. 

{Holding nose tightly.) 

’E’s broked by dose! 

Digby. 

Well, well! 

Cullen. 

{Has found his nose undamaged.) 

I’m on to you guys. It’s a frame-up! {Exits 

into hall .) T 

J Joyce. 

{Helping Vanderberg to chair.) 

Help us, doctor. Van’s hurt. 

Digby. 

No, he’s not. {To Vanderberg.) Good work, 
old scout. It’s all right. Cullen’s gone. 

Vanderberg. 

{Drowsily.) 

Who ordered the fireworks? 

Joyce. 

He’s hurt! -p. 

Digby. 

No. He’s only acting. 

Vanderberg. 

{Roused.) 

“Acting”—nothing! There’s a lump on my head 
as big as a grapefruit. 




124 


NEVER TOUCHED ME 


Digby. 

You don’t mean to say he actually hit you? 
Joyce. 

You should have seen it. It was a terrible blow. 


Digby. 

Why, I had an idea— 


Vanderberg. 

( Weakly.) 

I know you had. JoYCE . 

{Standing behind the chair, caressing him.) 
Listen. The patrol wagon— 

{Gong is heard outside.) 


Vanderberg. 

I hope they catch that murderer and send him up 
for life! 

Millie. 

Is everything arranged, Egbert? 

Digby. 

Everything. I saw the minister and bought the 

rin «- Millie. 

{Interrupting.) 

And the marriage license? 

Digby. 

I’ll fix that tomorrow. 


(Vanderberg looks at Joyce significantly, points 
to himself, then to her. Joyce nods and smiles.) 

Vanderberg. 

{Holding up two fingers at Digby.) 

Fix it for two, Doc. {Lets head drop back against 
Joyce.) 


CURTAIN. 



Putting It Over 

BY 

Larry E. Johnson 


A DRAMATIC COMEDY,-in 3 acts; 5 males, 3 fe¬ 
males. Time, 2*4 hours. Scenes: 2 interiors. 


CHARACTERS. 


Tom Browne... } dou ble role { 
Jack Stewart... J 1 

Colonel Lane. 

Lannon . 

Bolton ..•. 

Daintry. 

Eva Lou. 

Torrence . 

Mrs. Lane-Turner. 


....The Chief Engineer 
..Who Drew the Plans 
..A Heavy Stockholder 

.A Contractor 

.Browne’s Valet 

.Foreman at the Dam 
The Colonel’s Daughter 

.Lannon’s Daughter 

..Eva Lou’s Aunt Jule 


A big professional success now available to amateur 
use, for which it is admirably suited. Every part is 
clear-cut and worth while, and a double role for the 
male lead gives great opportunity. The dialogue 
sparkles with wit, and the plot, while dramatic, is full 
of real fun. Browne, engineer in charge of a big irri¬ 
gation dam project, disappears when it seems the 
construction will be ruined by graft and inefficiency. 
Stewart, from whom Browne stole the plans and who 
looks exactly like Browne, is down and out, and breaks 
in to steal. Everyone mistakes Stewart for Browne, 
and when he finds what a mess the first engineer made 
of the job, Stewart determines to assume the mas¬ 
querade and see it through. He battles with graft, 
nearly loses the girl he loves, and has a thoroughly 
exciting time, but is finally successful in putting it 
over. This play is all punch, and is especially recom¬ 
mended for colleges, dramatic schools and clubs that 
seek plays that are well constructed, full of action and 
capable of big effect. 


Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of fifteen dollars required for am - 
ateur performance. Price, Per Copy, 50c. 


T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 











Am I Intruding? 


BY 

Frederick G. Johnson 


A MYSTERY COMEDY in 3 acts; 6 males, 6 females. 
Time, 2 hours. Scene, 1 interior. 


Mrs. Hastings k .. 

Blair Hoover. 

Earnest Rathburn 

Marjory Vare. 

Dickie Waldron... 

Mona . 

Horace Vare. 

Violet Vare. 

Peter. 

Dora. 

Gerald Mays. 

Jane . 


CHARACTERS. 

.The Housekeeper 

.The Adventurer 

.Jane’s Secretary 

.......The Elder Daughter 

.A Romanticist 

.The Maid 

.The Father 

.The Younger Daughter 

.Devoted to Vi 

.A Friend of Vi’s 

.Jerry, from Sage Creek 

.Vare’s Niece 


Suspense and surprises, laughs and thrills, all mixed 
up so you don’t know what is coming next—these are 
the ingredients that brought to this unique play im¬ 
mediate and complete success with dramatic clubs all 
over the country. Fast in action, rich in rollicking 
comedy and well contrasted in characterization, “Am 
I Intruding?” is entirely free of any difficulties from 
the standpoint of staging. One scene, a simple in¬ 
terior, is used throughout. Each character offers a 
chance for an individual hit. This comedy can be pro¬ 
duced on any platform that has a door at either side, 
and the properties and costumes are easily assembled 
in any community. The dialogue is so brisk, the char¬ 
acterization so natural, and the interest so well sus¬ 
tained, that it can safely be essayed by performers 
with limited experience, yet it has unlimited possi¬ 
bilities for a highly skilled cast. “Am I Intruding?” 
has proved itself a successful all-purpose play, and 
is recommended to any college, high school or other 
organization in search of a clean, lively comedy that 
will please an audience thoroughly. 


Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of ten dollars required for amateur 
performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 


T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 

















The City Feller 

BY 

Lillian Mortimer 

A RURAL COMEDY, in 3 acts; 6 males, 4 females. 
Time, 2 hours. Scenes: 1 exterior, 1. interior. 


Jim Simpson. 

Marthy Simpson.. 

Lissie Brown. 

Grandpa Simpson 
Auntie Purvis.... 
Lemuel Hecker... 

Phil Granger. 

Sally Hecker. 

Jeff Biggs. 

Orrin Ruddy. 


CHARACTERS. 

.A Farmer 

.Jim’s Wife 

.An Orphan 

..Old but Ambitious 

.Sally’s Mother 

.A Small-Town Slicker 

.The City Feller 

.Lem’s Widowed Mother 

.The Town Marshal 

.The Postmaster 


Lissie is a drudge in the Simpson home and life 
holds little joy for her until Phil, a salesman from 
the city, happens by and wins her heart. After he 
has gone Lissie’s faith in him is shaken by the ma¬ 
licious comments of Lemuel, who is jealous of the city 
feller; Lem’s mother Sally, who is an inveterate gossip; 
and Marthy, who thinks well of no one. The unhappy 
girl further incurs the Simpson wrath by aiding in the 
courtship of Grandpa Simpson and Auntie Purvis, a 
sweet, old fashioned couple who are made miserable 
by their domineering children. The slander-mongers 
have just about convinced Lissie and all the rest of 
the village that Phil is a confidence man and a bank 
robber; and Lissie, driven out by Marthy, is about to 
wed Lem in desperation, when the city feller gets back 
to town, take3 control of the situation, proves his good 
character, gives Lem a sound thrashing and claims 
the hand of his country sweetheart. The romance of 
the gray-haired couple is one of the most charming 
things ever staged, and the courtship of sharp-tongued 
Sally by the deaf old postmaster is a masterpiece of 
comic conception. This gripping play affords more 
than the usual amount of laughter, and the interest 
is continuous. The characters are all so well drawn 
and the plot so well constructed that an enthusiastic 
reception is assured. 

Professional. stage - rights reserved and a 
royalty of ten dollars required for amateur 
performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents. 


T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 














Fifty-Fifty 

BY 

Frederick G. Johnson 


A FARCE of love, luck and laughter in 3 acts, by 
the author of “Mary’s Millions”; 5 males, 5 fe¬ 
males. Time, 2% hours. Scenes: 2 interiors, an attic 
studio and a bungalow. 


CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY. 


Henry Brown ... 

Paul Green . 

Patrick O’Malley 

Smudge .. 

Cap’ . 

Mrs. Podge. 

Sophie Bland.... 

May Dexter. 

Mrs. Hawley. 

Josephine . 


.An Artist 

... .An Author 

.A Janitor 

.A Valet 

..A Wanderer 
...A Landlady 

.A Dancer 

An Enthusiast 
...A Collector 
.A Seeker 


If there be a moral to this merry comedy of compli¬ 
cations, it is that it is possible to get too much of a 
good thing. Paul and Henry are struggling to achieve 
fame and bread-and-butter money in literature and 
art. Utter failure is their lot until one of Henry’s 
paintings, accidentally displayed upside down, is enthu¬ 
siastically purchased by an art collector, and the “im¬ 
pressionistic painter” becomes the talk of the town. 
Paul, following the hunch, writes his stories backward, 
and success follows swiftly. But some innocent fibs, 
told for reasons of necessity, reach the newspapers, 
and the pals find themselves headed straight for 
trouble. Their love affairs go awry, and in the pre¬ 
dicaments which follow as a result of their propensity 
for spinning yarns, they find success an empty thing. 
A woman who claims to be Paul’s wife, an-elusive van¬ 
ishing painting, a mysterious sea-faring man, a med¬ 
dling landlady, all contribute to the mixup. Of course 
it all comes out happily. 


Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of fifteen dollars required for amateur 
performance . Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 


T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 














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1-923 

















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